“Why?” The corners of his mouth pulled into a wider grin. He had backed her up against the balustrade, his hands on either side of her, blocking any of Celine’s attempts to squirm away. “Because you stop being angry with me when I smile like this? Do I affect you that much, Celine?”
For the briefest moment, Celine hesitated. She squeezed her eyes shut, cursing herself. “No.You,” she seethed, “do not affect me at all.”
That was possibly the biggest lie she had ever told. Celine bit down on her molars, straining to resist the urge that pulsed at her wrist, seeking her attention, the bite of her nails. She couldn’t give in to her tell-tale habit. He knew about it, he hadnoticed.
To her utter disbelief, something was already brushing against her skin in feather-soft circles.
Bastien was holding her arms pinned on the balustrade, his thumb moving back and forth on the inside of her wrist.
“Liar,” he whispered and allowed himself the briefest glance at her lips before kissing her.
Any thoughts of revolting fleeted away as Celine’s body melted against him. Letting go of her wrists, Bastien moved his hands up to her jawline, tilting her head back. He pressed a kiss to her throat.
“You thinkIlike tossing and turning all night, every night since we kissed, because I can’t stop thinking about you?”
Celine couldn’t push him away any more than she could stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair and kissing him back. There was no explanation she could conjure to justify what she was doing. Jacques, her family, her friends, they were all at the party, celebrating the birthday of a girl who wasn’t even there; a girl who was currently kissing someone she shouldn’t be kissing, and who didn’t want to stop. Because the pure bliss that she was feeling right now, Celine had only felt when she was inside Maison Baudelaire, doing what she loved most. Doing what she had always wanted to do.
But at this moment, all she wanted was Bastien.
Bastien drew back, leaving no more than a sliver of space between them. His breathing was ragged, his lips, just like hersCeline imagined, were a raw pink. Bastien ran a rough hand through his hair, disarraying the strands Celine had already mussed. “You think Ilikefeeling this way?” he asked.
“What way?” she breathed.
Please.
Do not let all of this be for nothing.
“Say it,” she pressed, angling her head to peer at him when he looked away. No answer. She wanted to shake him. “Bastien. Say it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t—I can’t love you,” he forced out. “Not the way you want me to.”
The night air fluttered between them, cold and cutting through the stillness between them. Celine’s heart was pounding too loudly in her ears, muffling everything else.
“Why?” Her voice cracked. “Am I not enough?”
“You are,” he rushed to say. “You aremorethan enough. You are everything.”
There was abuthe was holding back. And it hung between them like a blade that would shear off the tether looped around their hearts.
“You know me, Celine. I get bored—I get bored fast. I just want to have what there is to be had at the moment. I told you, no strings.”
Celine squeezed her eyes shut against the uncomfortable prickle of tears. She wanted him too—but she wanted more than just fun, more than just the moment. She wanted all the strings there were between them attached and permanent.
“I will not be tossing everything away forjust fun,” she stated flatly, and untangled herself from his grasp. “Drive me back. Jacques is waiting for me.”
“You are really going to say yes? To the man who stood there and said nothing while you looked like you were drowning in that room?”
“At least he is better than the man who did all of this for a game.”
“It wasn’t a game.”
“Really? What was it then?” Celine’s chest rose and fell with angry breaths. Once again, Bastien said nothing. “It’s my fault, really, for believing you could be better. Let’s go.”
Bastien didn’t move. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “So you are going to go through with this engagement out of spite?”
