Kaelith simply stared at her and he smiled. Beautiful enough to ruin people.
“You do.” His answer came without hesitation. “You love stories. He took a step closer. Until his scent, something dark, masculine, painfully addictive, wrapped around her senses.
“You paint when you can’t sleep.” His eyes stayed locked on hers. “You sing when you think no one’s listening.” Another step. Her pulse skipped. “You dance barefoot…” His gaze dipped briefly to her lips. “…even when there’s no music.”
Amara forgot how to breathe. And Kaelith kept going.
As though each memory had been branded into his bones.
“Your favorite color is red…” His voice dropped lower. “…but somehow…” His eyes slowly dragged over her. “…you always looked like heaven in beige.” Heat rushed violently to her face. She gripped the book tighter. Unable to look away. Unable to move.
Kaelith’s expression softened, barely enough to notice. “You’re allergic to meat.” A small smirk. “You steal sweets though.” His gaze darkened. “You hide chocolate under your pillow. You played the piano for me once. On my birthday. You hate roses. Prefer peonies. You-“
He suddenly realized what he’d done.
His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
What the fuck was he doing?
Why did he remember any of that?
Why did he remembereverything?
The late-night laughter.
The stolen smiles.
The way she hummed while mixing colors.
The way she wrinkled her nose when she concentrated.
The way she looked at him, like he wasn’t made of sin.
He had promised himself he’d forget.
Swore he would.
Swore he’d bury every goddamn memory of her.
Swore he would never, ever, get attached again.
And yet, standing in front of her now, watching her look at him with innocent curiosity instead of painful memories, Kaelith realized the most dangerous truth of all.
He had never forgotten her.
Not for a single…
Fucking…
Day.
Amara’s lips parted.
How did he know all this?
Why did he sound so sure?
So… intimate.
