Page 48 of Misery
He meets my eyes. Those dark eyes with gold flecks that see too much. That have seen too much. "You know why."
The air changes, almost thickens like honey.
We're still on my bathroom floor, me naked, which hides nothing, and him in clothes he clearly threw on.
But something shifts.
The molecules between us vibrate differently.
"How long?" I ask. "How long have you looked at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I hung the moon. Like I'm something precious. Like I matter more than breathing."
His jaw works. I can see the muscle tick. Control slipping through his fingers like water. "Always."
"That's not?—"
"Since before I had any right to." The words come out rough. Scraped raw from somewhere deep. "Before the attack. Before anything gave me permission to want you."
"You wanted me before?" The revelation rocks me.
Before, when I waswhole.
When I laughed without checking exits first.
When I was just Ivar's artistic daughter who drank too much sometimes and painted weird things.
"I noticed you before. The girl who painted her feelings in colors I didn't have names for. Who laughed too loud at Bubba's—this bright sound that cut through all the smoke and misery. Who gave her dad shit and made your mom smile."
His hand finds my face. Cups my cheek. His palm is calloused. Warm.
"Then after... watching you survive. Rebuild. Fake being okay when you were dying inside. You're the strongest person I know, Elfe. How could I not?—"
I kiss him.
No warning. No buildup. Just my mouth on his because I need to taste those words.
Need to feel something other than fear and panic and the memory of other hands that weren't careful.
That took without asking.
He freezes for a heartbeat.
Everything in him going still.
Then he's kissing me back.
Soft at first, controlled, testing.
Then I bite his bottom lip—instinct more than thought—and control shatters like spun glass.
His hand tangles in my hair, not pulling but holding.
Angles my head where he wants it.
Deepens the kiss until I can't breathe and don't care.
