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Finally, soft and vulnerable, she asked, “Why do you care?”
“Because—” His fist curled tight, pounding softly against the bookcase behind her. “You have to know. I—” He looked away, his blood coursing with something dangerous. “Because I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long and you know it.”
“No you don’t,” she said furiously. “I heard you! I was right there when you told Wisteria how you felt about me.”
A bitter laugh burst from him.“You think I’m going to tell my sister how I really feel?”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she touched his face, her fingers trembling slightly.
He heaved a ragged breath, then he was begging her, pleading with unrestrained desperation. “If you're going to be kissing anyone, it should be me.” The words surged from him raw, a tangle of want and longing. “Why would you want to kiss anyone else when I’m right here?”
Her palm was warm against his face. Tender. But when a tear slid down her cheek, his heart shattered.
“Oleander, I don’t know if I should kiss you,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
“I—I need us to stay friends.”
“Friends?”
She bit her lip. “I’m still betrothed. You know that.”
As if that were all the explanation needed.
“Right,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be kissing others when you’re betrothed.”
Her thumb brushed softly against his skin. He leaned into her touch, as though grounding himself against the gravity of her rejection.
“And my family would never approve of us being together.”
“I don’t consider that a huge loss.”
“It’s better this way,” she said, glancing away from him. “For you and I to have clear boundaries.”
“Better for you to kiss everyone except the one you want?”
“Hey!” Perine’s hand dropped from his face to slap his chest lightly. “I very much wanted to kiss them.”
He touched his forehead to hers, breaths mingling. “As much as you want to kiss me?”
“That’s not the point. It’s different with them.”
He pulled back to meet her gaze—her eyes wide and searching.
Their shared affection might once have been simple, but the more time they spent together, the more it had twisted into a tangled patch of briar, winding tighter around them until there was no way out without tearing into the truth of what they felt for each other.
For too long, he had been forced to bury his delight in her beneath denial and silence. But here, in this quiet, breathless moment, he knew the truth was no different for her; that she, too, had carried the same longing, hidden beneath all they dared not say.
“Alright, then. Let me tell you something.” He released a slow breath. “You and me? We can never be friends.”
“Don’t say that.” Her fingers fisted his shirt, pulling him closer, voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t say that to me. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
His voice dropped, heavy and low. “Here’s the thing, Wilder.” This time, he used her surname like it was a caress. A plea. “If we can never be friends, then there’s nothing left to ruin.”
“There’s everything to ruin, and you know it.”
“Fine,” he said. “Then ruin it. Ruin me. Char it all to ash. This thing between us is already burning me alive.”
