Page 169 of The Wicked
“Oh…” he said, blinking at me while trailing off as if thinking deeply. “I have no problem sharing a bed with you. It is big enough to accommodate two people, but I understand if you have a problem sharing a bed. You can take the couch.”
My jaw dropped, and I laughed lightly. “I seriously don’t understand you. Pick a side. Are you a gentleman or an asshole? Stop confusing me.”
He pursed his lips, eyes searching mine before he moved, raising himself to my level, as he propped up on one elbow, now facing me fully.
He reached for a raspberry in the bowl, watching me while he put it into his mouth, tongue collecting it first before it disappeared inside his mouth and he chewed delicately.
A little thump made itself known between my legs, and I pressed them together and shifted as I looked from his lips to his eyes, quenching the thought of wanting to kiss him.
“I am not an asshole. I am just very straightforward. Thesooner you learn the difference between the two, the better,” he said, dropping his phone in the tiny space between us.
“Why are you so comfortable sharing a bed with me?” I asked. “Aren’t you wary I’d hurt you in your sleep?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His shoulders moved. “I won’t sleep. So it’s useless worrying about a situation I can control.”
I picked up another raspberry, watching him while I chewed.
The man didn’t take his eyes off me either, and I could tell there were questions within their depths.
But I knew I needed to ask him questions before getting into character.
“I thought you only wore black because you despise other colors?”
“Hm.” He nodded. “When I’m in the compound, yes. Outside the compound, I do whatever I desire. I also like to collect items I’ll never wear, like the shirt you’re wearing. This sweater, though, was a birthday gift from Angelo’s mother. I liked it. I kept it. Now I’m wearing it,” he said, reaching for another berry.
“When’s your birthday?” I asked him, genuinely curious.
“December first. When’s yours?”
I didn’t think he’d ask, but then again, he had been behaving suspiciously since I got on that plane.
“I’m surprised you don’t know… since you’re supposed to have run a background check on me.”
“Hm. We did run one, but now I’m asking. I want you to tell me.”
I nodded. “It’s January third, according to certificates and documents I’ve seen; I don’t know how true it is.”
He watched me.
“What? Did you see a different date when you ran your check?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I looked away from him to the bowl. It was quiet for about ten seconds before I broke the silence.
“Can I ask a question?”
“I thought we were already doing that,” Elio responded, still watching me.
He got more comfortable, shifting closer to me, his chin on his palm, his gaze unnerving. The same way it had been on the plane when he looked up for the first time.
Like he was in awe.
No one had ever looked at me like that.
