Page 118 of The Bargain

But I am scared. Of her. Of the feelings whirling in my chest. Of what’s going to happen next, or having to let her go, again. Of what the future holds for both of us. Of what’s going to happen—and what might never happen.

I take her wrist, and she shivers at my touch, instinctively. I place her palm on my chest, right over my heart.

“If I’m not scared,” I murmur, “then why does my heart feel like this?”

It’s beating so fast and hard that I know she can feel it—and her palm on my chest is like a balm over a deep wound.

“Heart problems at your age?” Desdemona says drily. But I think she’s a little bit scared, too, because her eyes are wet and shiny, and her lips are trembling, and she’s making no effort to remove her hand from my heart. “That’s why you should quit smoking.”

“You asking me or telling me?”

Her eyelashes flutter—her cheeks are so flushed I can almost feel the warmth radiating from them. Her mouth moves, as if there are a hundred things she wants to say. In the end, her eyebrows scrunch, and her voice comes out low and sincere—a joke that’s not a joke at all.

“I’m begging you.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence before my mouth is on hers. She melts into the kiss, into me, her mouth falling open in a silent, hungry submission. She tastes sweet and soft, which are two words you’d never think to use to describe her, and I have this terrible urge to hold her, to protect her, not just now, but for the rest of her life, to cushion every blow ever meant for her.

“Love,” I whisper over her lips in between kisses. I want to kiss all of her, right now, so hungry my entire body aches. My mouth strays, distracted, to her cheek, her temple. Her hair clings to my wet lips, and her hot breath plumes against my jaw. “I missed you.”

“Elias,” she sighs. “I missed you.”

Her arms are wrapping around my neck, and she’s pressing herself into me, chest to chest and thigh to thigh, her desire like soft fire spreading between us.

“Miss Sutton-Knight! Mr Lennox!” Mrs Kendall’s booming voice shatters the air. “I will thank you to end this obscene display this instant!”

To my shock—and delight—Desdemona doesn’t even seem to register our head of year’s orders. She presses her lips back to mine like she can’t stop, like she can’t get enough, and I’m laughing even as I kiss her back, laughing as I pull away, thumb pressing into her waist, forcing her to reluctantly peel her body away from mine.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs Kendall says, storming from the dorm building. “There are innocent children watching!”

Presumably, she’s talking about the Year 7s, who are pressing their faces to the windows and giggling uncontrollably.

“Mr Lennox, you have no business whatsoever being anywhere near the girls’ dormitories,” Mrs Kendall says, crossing her arms. “Miss Sutton-Knight, I expect more dignified conduct from a former head girl!”

“What are you going to do, kick me out?” Desdemona mutters, rolling her eyes.

“What did you just say?” Mrs Kendall exclaims.

“Nothing.”

Desdemona licks her lips, which are pink and shiny, and it only makes me want to kiss her more, but Mrs Kendall is already herding her away.

“You should be on your way to the front gates, young lady, not sullying the sanctity of these halls with garish displays of affection.”

“It was just a kiss,” Desdemona says, but she’s got no choice but to follow Mrs Kendall, and now Mr North, drawn by the racket, is striding over from the Old Manor, and other teachers are emerging from the buildings, and more students are sticking their heads out of the windows to see what all the fuss is about, and my time is running out, and I’ve not asked Desdemona any of the important questions.

Like What now? And Will you wait for me? And When will I see you again?

All I can do, in the end, is call out: “Desdemona!”

Desdemona stops, turns, eyes wide, swimming with questions, too, with unsaid things.

“Yes?”

I swallow hard. “I⁠—”

Love you. Wish we had more time. Wish you didn’t have to go.

Want you to wait for me. Want to see you this summer. Want you to be mine, properly, for good.