Page 97 of Brutal Crown
“Sometimes I think about that first night we kissed,” he says. “Right here, under the moonlight. Things were easy back then.”
“Easier than it is now, maybe. Easy as a whole, no,” I whisper.
“But you kissed me anyway, and you liked it. For a moment, you forgot we weren’t supposed to be seen with each other, let alone kissing.”
I sigh, taking note of the softness in his eyes, one I haven’t seen in a while.
“It was…” I admit in a low voice. “Easy.”
Marco had made me feel like a little girl with a crush. He made me smile until my face hurt, made me giggle. He was my escape.
Now, I don’t even know what he is anymore.
We fall into silence again, the soft sound of birds chirping in the background. Then he gets up and walks around the table, slowly but surely.
“Can I?” he asks, reaching for my hand.
I nod. He lifts it gently, pressing his mouth to my fingers.
“You’re shaking,” he says softly.
“No, I’m not.”
He doesn’t call me out on the lie.
Instead, his other hand rises, curling lightly around my waist as he pulls me up from the chair and closer to him.
I feel his breath before I feel his mouth.
The kiss is soft, deep, and slow. He tastes like he’s making a promise. Like he’s trying to make up for every bruise this place has put on my heart.
His hands squeeze my waist, and I grasp the front of his chest. A low groan slips past his lips as he deepens the kiss. But even as I bury my hands in his hair and kiss him back with as much fervor, I know.
This isn’t the kiss I ache for.
His hands travel down to my ass, and he squeezes firmly. My hands roam over his chest, wanting and searching for more.
This isn’t the touch that makes my knees weak.
There’s no spark. No ache. No fire racing up my spine.
Just a boy trying to love and a girl pretending she can love him back.
I don’t stop him when his hand drifts down to caress my exposed thigh. I let him hold me, let him run his fingers over my skin. But when his hands start to drift higher under my dress, I pull away.
He watches my face closely, his expression hiding whatever he’s thinking.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Sorry,” I whisper, my eyes unable to meet his. “I’m just tired.”
His jaw tenses for half a second, but he smiles anyway. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“No need,” I say almost too quickly. “Thank you. This was… nice.”
“Nice?” He gasps. “I put so much effort into this for you to call it nice, Lia. You hurt my feelings.”
I chuckle, slightly relieved at the lightness in his tone.
