Page 52 of Late Nights & Love Lines
I’m not someone who can be claimed or tamed or, or?—
“Thank you,” Sebastian says in a smooth tone that makes it hard to swallow. His fingers press a rhythm into my skin. One, two, three, four, five. Then he does it again as his palm falls flush against me.
My heart thrashes wildly beneath his touch.
“For what?” I croak.
“For what you told Seren earlier. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was coming up here to make sure she had what she needed, and your door was open. I know you don’t talk about your past, maybe ever, but I appreciate that you shared something that made her feel less alone. That’s not something I could have given her.”
I shrug, but it’s hard to think with his hand still pressing into my skin.
“She’s a good kid,” I finally say when the silence begins to chafe.
“She is,” he agrees. “But you’re pretty special too.”
I’m shaking my head, but if I’m disagreeing or just trying to get my brain cells to start working again is anyone’s guess.
He’s so close that his body heat warms me from neck to shins and every time my chest heaves a breath, it pushes me harder into his palm. I nearly moan from this contact alone.
“You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you, Peach. You’ve invaded every waking hour and disrupted my dreams. You’re everywhere, and I fucking like it. A lot.”
I gulp, and he leans in painfully slowly, as though he’s giving me the chance to pull away. Oh God, I’m going to hell because I want him to kiss me. I want him to touch me in a way I’ve never allowed before, and I’m a horrible person because I’m only capable of hurting him in the end.
When his lips hover above mine, the deafening sound of my phone breaks us apart like two virgins caught by their parents.
“That’s, uh.” My fingers press to my lips. The ghost of his minty breath still lingers there, and I press harder, holding the essence of his kiss to my mouth. Lowering my fingers, his gaze darkens. “That’s the hotline. I, uh, I have to get it.”
I practically sprint across the room and retrieve my phone from the nightstand.
“Single Dad Hotline, I’m your helper, how can I help you?” I answer shakily.
“Rowan, my sister’s trying to give me a heart attack. We’re supposed to leave for camp tomorrow, but she’s locked herself in her room and refuses to pack. She says she’s too old for a nanny and won’t come out. I told you I should’ve removed her damn door.”
Freaking Thane. He might be the biggest pain in the ass, but he also just saved my ass from doing something monumentally stupid.
“Thane, calm down.” I almost burst out laughing. Thane isn’t the one who sounds like they need to calm down. He’s as monotone as ever while I’m a hyperventilating fool.
Sebastian waves his hand to get my attention and motions toward the door. I nod, grateful that he’s leaving, but also almost sad that he is.
I’m leaving, I remind myself. I always leave. It’s how it is and will always be. I’m the runaway.
The reminders aren’t doing anything to ease the unfamiliar sensations filling my body and mind though. If anything, they’re causing more thunderous storms to rage below the surface, searching for a place to touch down.
“Calm down,” Thane mocks while Sebastian silently closes my door. The sound of it clicking sets off a ricochet of pain I try to ignore because it’s a terrible freaking sign.
Absolutely no more late-night wishes or almost kisses. Girls like me have no place wishing for anything but survival.
13
ROWAN, ROWAN, ROWAN YOUR BOAT
SEBASTIAN
I’d better not meet that jackass Thane this week because I’m liable to strangle him for interrupting what would have been, undoubtedly, the best first kiss in the history of kisses.
So good, poets would’ve written about it. It would’ve been the kind of kiss that changes the trajectory of my life, and he fucking ruined it with his whining.
The kind of energy I experienced was a full-body ache feeding a growing hunger for Rowan Ellis. It both spurs me on and fucks with my head because if I’m wrong, I could end up hurting my family all over again.
