Are the two not so close they could be one and the same?
I want to kiss her, without any cameras around.
Would she let me?
Or would she stop me, like she did in LA, like she did on the pier?
I could have spent the entire night standing there behind her, listening to her play her sad song while I thought up every excuse to not move a muscle, to not say a word.
But, like many times in my life, I saidfuck it.
I swallowed past the tightness in my throat, slowly reaching forward until my hands found her shoulders. Mia stiffened when I touched her, until I started kneading the tight muscles.
Slowly, she released, head falling back slightly even as her fingers kept their pace on the keys. The music surrounded us, the soundtrack to a moment that felt so weighted.
I let my hands explore, sliding them up to cup the back of her neck, to brush my knuckles along her jaw, to destroy her braid as I ran my fingers roughly through it to massage her scalp.
Her breath was as shallow as mine when I maneuvered to sit on the bench next to her, straddling it and admiring the way the soft light through my rain-streaked windows hit the side of her face. I cupped that gorgeous face in one hand, thumb resting over her ear, fingers curling at the nape of her neck. When I ranmy thumb along her bottom lip, I wet my own, and her mouth parted to reward me with a sweep of warm breath.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, head tilting to lean into my touch only a moment before she stopped playing. The silence of my apartment was jarring in the absence of the melody, a heavy quiet that wrapped around us before I noticed the faint sounds the music had hidden before.
Rain drumming.
Wind whistling.
The city outside thrummed with its own rhythm, as alive as the pulse between us.
She turned to me, eyes opening to lock onto mine.
And that’s when I realized she’d been crying.
I could just barely make out the gleaming proof on her cheeks, her watery eyes watching me as her nose flared, her bottom lip wobbling.
“Mia…” I croaked.
“No,” she whispered, her eyes falling to my chest. She wrapped her hand around my wrist, holding me steady where I still cupped her face. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please, just…” She rolled her lips together, a fresh tear sneaking free as she lifted her gaze to mine. I wiped that tear with my thumb, feeling it burn my skin like a liquid fire. “Can you kiss me?”
I frowned, stroking her cheek with my thumb and willing her to talk to me, but she shook her head before I could even ask again.
“Aleks,please. Kiss me.” She fisted her hand in my sleep shirt, twisting. “Please.Please.”
A blink, and we were kids again, alone in her bedroom, those exact words rolling off her lips.
I’d been scared then — scared of her father, of the repercussions, of not being what she needed, what she deserved.I was so hellbent on being respectful, not just of her dad’s wishes, but of her.
Tonight, I didn’t care if I wasn’t good enough.
I wanted her so badly, I’d risk being her mistake.
“Only if you agree.”
“Agree to what?”
“To let me kiss you everywhere.”
Surprise flitted across her expression for only a breath before her eyes heated, her next breath bottoming out.
“To let me domorethan just kiss you,” I clarified, sucking in a breath through my nose as my hand traveled down, fingertips tracing her jaw, her chin, until I splayed my hand over her neck and curled my fingers around it. “To let me ruin you in every way I’ve ever imagined.”