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“Why are you here?” she blurted out.
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” was the prompt return, riddled with confusion.
Because you are supposed to be letting Sona touch you—
“I assumed you were mad at me for my joke.”
“What makes you think I’m mad?”
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she repeated, avoiding the question.
“The watch? We decided it was so peaceful that one watcher would do.”
“I didn’t mean the watch.”
“Daria, what are you on to?”
She heard his exasperation. It fed hers until she was shaking from being miffed. Before she could contemplate it, she whirled around and glared.
“I don’t know. I’m not the one avoiding the other just because he’s afraid of death and angry that others can joke about it. Life is short, okay? I cope with my weaknesses through humor. Deal with it.”
“I know. That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just…it just shook me, okay? And you are right. I shouldn’t be dwelling on that incident. I shouldn’t be angry that you moved on, and I didn’t.”
“Charlie…”
“I just want you to succeed so badly, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”
She didn’t want to leave it at that. She wanted to poke on it until the hornet’s broke, wanted to keep poking until he spilled out everything there was to spill. But perhaps a part of her was afraid of what she would find—of how much the open, broken nest would sting and make it impossible to get over it. She swallowed the questions down but couldn’t quite shove back the other.
“So, you are skipping out on sex with a goddess for a reconciliation?”
There was a strangled sound, then some shaking…wait, was he laughing? Daria reached out to touch his mouth. The curve of it confirmed he was smiling. Fascinated, she traced the lines with her thumb and realized his lower lip was heavier than his top one. Then she felt the moment the lines changed as his smile disappeared.
“Maybe. I like sleeping with you,” he muttered.
“Oh.”
“I meant sleeping beside you.”
This man…he was dangerous to her system, someone who could say few words and get her libido in a state of no return. She fought the spike of pleasure and latched on to the last statement, meant to be platonic.
“Right. I knew what you meant.”
His hand nudged until she made space, allowing it to slither under. It curled around her, then drew her in, closer and closer, until she could feel his warm breath against her nose. When her hand retreated, he snatched it back and pressed it to its earlier position.
“You can keep touching me, you know,” he murmured against her thumb, voice decidedly lower. Huskier. “Memorize my face that way.”
“I know your face.”
“Oh?”
“I know you smirk when something pleases you and smile when you find something funny. I know how wide that smile gets when you find somethingveryfunny but aren’t supposed to laugh.” She touched his lips again, then feathered her fingers over his jaw. “I know how this grows tense when you are trying to keep yourself from punching someone or saying something mean. It matches the tension here.”
His shoulders weren’t tense now, but they weren’t relaxed, either. Her thumb pressed against the edge and felt an answering grunt, but he didn’t say a word. His throat was next, where his pulse jumped.
