Page 25 of The NemeSis
She continues to walk around, soft footsteps on the hard wood floors. Has she always walked that softly? I feel like she could sneak up on me. Her voice gently bounces off the empty walls.
Kyra turns in a slow circle as she nears the large arched windows. “Okay.” She turns back toward me. “This place has potential.”
I step closer. My face straight as I nod, waiting for her to continue. Does she notice how distracting she is? Curves that beg to be caressed. Toned legs I want wrapped around me. Thick blonde hair I want to run my fingers through, or wrapped around my hand. “Where should we start?”
Her light blue eyes find mine. They pin me in place, like a slow-burning, cool flame. They’re fucking impossible to look away from.
“Warm, velvet blue walls. Maybe a wallpaper for the color and a bit of design.” She slips her bag to the floor then starts to walk around again. “This fireplace is gorgeous. The mantle is too small for it though. You could do furniture here.” Kyra walks in a circle and starts pointing out seating and tables.
And me? I’m still near the door trying to catch my breath from the way she smelled walking past me five minutes ago. Citrus. Sunshine.Her.
Kyra’s eyes light up as she talks and I continue to nod along at her words. Not that I’m paying enough attention, I can’t think straight. The sunlight comes through the window and finds her, like a beacon. It’s as if she glows, otherwise the universe is shining a spotlight on her.
It never occurred to me before how gorgeous she is. She was seventeen the last time I saw her. Petite little thing. Those blue eyes always got to me, though. She could ask me or my brother for anything or to play any game, and we gave in. Just like our parents.
But now? Now, she’s twenty-one. There’s nothing about her that looks like a kid anymore. It should be wrong. The six-year age gap, all the history, our family connections, the weight of every summer and holiday we shared growing up.
Then she looks at me.
It’s like she fucking sees me.
Kyra bites her lip like she’s holding back a laugh and it hits me all at once. It crashes into me. This isn’t passing. This isn’t casual. It’s like she’s lodged herself in my chest and made a home there. I want her in the forever kind of way.
* * *
Later,we’re sitting cross-legged on the floor. Our backs are against the wall near the windows. Remnants of our takeout has been pushed away and back in the greasy paper bags it arrived in. Her laptop balances on her knees as she scrolls through furniture websites, pointing out ideas.
Kyra seems completely at ease. Comfortable in a way I didn’t consider before. As if there was nowhere else she’d rather be, than sitting on the floor of an empty condo with me at eight o’clock on a Monday night.
I watch her point out a sectional she says would be perfect if I want a cozy night in. Then she talks about adding in built-in bookcases and some oversized chaise lounge that would be perfect for reading in.
“Send me the links,” I say.
She laughs and kicks my foot, as if I were joking. The touch is barely anything, but it might as well be a spark plug to my skin. She doesn’t even look up, just keeps scrolling, completely unaware she’s unraveling me in real time.
I shift slightly, trying to give a bit of distance. She doesn’t seem to notice. It’s like she can’t feel the air crackling between us. It should be a good thing. Safe. Because the second she realizes what’s happening, everything changes.
“See this is what you need.” She tilts her screen over to show the collage image of blues, golds, and cream-colored furniture and accent pieces. “Something warm and cozy, yet sensual.”
I raise a brow. “Why? Are you planning on coming over and seducing me with throw pillows?”
Kyra laughs. “You wish.” She moves to another image. “You need something cozy and entirely you. I’m sure you have pieces stored away from your travels that deserve a place too.”
“I do.” I turn my head to look at her instead of her screen.
She meets my eyes for a split second. Her lips part, then she quickly turns to pay attention to her laptop again. “Are you going to hire someone to paint?”
“Yes. I might have it arranged during my next trip, so I don’t have to worry about the paint fumes,” I respond.
“When is that?” She swallows.
“After the event we haven’t discussed. I’ll make sure I’m here for you for it.” I point to her laptop. “Pull up the sectional again.” I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, leaning in closer to her to grab it. “Let’s order it.”
Kyra smiles at me. “If you order all this comfortable furniture, don’t be surprised if I decide it’s quieter here and show up to watch movies or study.”
I laugh, but I’m counting on it.
Chapter Eleven
