AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My eyes drifted to his lips. We were close enough that I could feel his breath on my lips, or at least I imagined I could. If I just leaned in a little bit more, I could close the distance between our mouths. I wondered what he’d taste like. Would his lips feel soft or hard against mine? Would he kiss slow and sweet or rough and desperately?
Where did that thought come from? I was not supposed to be thinking of kissing Nathaniel. I meant it when I told Kylie nothing was going to happen between us. I couldn’t afford to get attached to him. It wasn’t realistic. He wasn’t even human. For all I knew, he could be immortal, eternally young and beautiful and unattainable.
It was my turn to ask a question, but I didn’t want to know the answer to that. I wasn’t ready to hear if he was going to stay in his midtwenties forever.
Ten
Nathaniel
Getting attachedto Sierra was never part of the plan. She was a job, one I hadn’t evenwantedto take. And yet here I was, listening to her life story and asking her more questions every time she stopped talking.
For the entire week that she’d called out of work, we didn’t leave the apartment. We spent most of the time talking about superficial crap I’d never cared to learn about anyone before. I chalked it up to it being the only thing I had to distract me from the two things I was having a very hard time ignoring. First, the fading bruises around Sierra’s neck that were slowly turning from dark purple to a light greenish brown. And second, the annoying urge I had to kiss or touch her whenever we were in the same room, which considering the size of the apartment, wasall the fucking time.
So instead, I focused on asking her about music, her church, and what she did for fun besides reading, letting her fill the space with her words. Despite having a normal and typical human life, she wasn’t boring to listen to.
“When was the last time you got drunk?” I asked.
It was Thursday morning, day four of our house arrest together, and I was starting to go stir-crazy. I knew if she wanted to go out this weekend, I wouldn’t argue. Hell, I’d probably suggest it if she didn’t. I needed space, room to breathe without smelling her vanilla scent.
She looked down from her spot on the couch to where I was lying on the floor, my boots propped against the coffee table. “Depends on your definition of drunk. Two weeks ago, Kylie brought home a bottle of wine for our movie night. I don’t think we really crossed into drunk territory, but we hung out in tipsy land for a while.”
“Should I be asking where Kylie managed to get her hands on a bottle of wine?” The girl wasn’t legal in this particular part of the universe. “You know what? I don’t care.” My interest in human laws ranked pretty low, somewhere between calculus and celebrity gossip. It wasn’t like humans ever seemed to listen to the rules—the ones they created or the ones laid out for them by angels and prophets. “Were you drinking for a reason?”
“Her ex started dating again. We had ice cream and a movie marathon too.”
I debated asking aboutherexes, but that would imply that I cared about her romantic history. Which I didn’t.
“Do you drink?” she asked.
“I’m an angel, not a saint.”
She frowned at me. “First of all, that was rude. Secondly, why wouldn’t saints drink?”
I couldn’t help the low laugh that her words drew from me.
She slipped off the couch to sit on the floor beside me, and I tensed. She was now within touching distance. I couldn’t reach her with my hands at least, but it would be so easy to nudge my foot against hers.
What the fuck? Was I seriously considering playing footsie with her? I needed to get her talking again. Now.
“So, baby girl, have you had any fun surgeries?”
She scowled at the nickname she’d made clear she wasn’t fond of, but she’d given up trying to get me to stop. “Just one so far.” She reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged it up to her rib cage, showing off a two-inch scar that ran diagonally over the right side of her lower stomach.
The air died in my chest, my next breath going nowhere. My eyes were transfixed on the creamy, smooth skin of her stomach, and it had very little to do with the scar there. “What happened?” My voice sounded wrong, rough and throaty.
“Got my appendix out when I was fifteen. It wasn’t a fun night.” She let the shirt drop back into place, and my chest loosened enough for me to take an actual breath. “And it put an end to my bikini days pretty fast.”
“Why?” I dragged my gaze up to her face. “You have the body for it.”
Her blush was instantaneous, spreading across her pale cheeks and down her neck. I wondered how far down that blush went. One of the great mysteries of life that I wasn’t going to get an answer to.
“The scar may fade enough eventually, but I don’t want to show it off at this point.”
“It doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” I had the sudden, ridiculous urge to pull her shirt back up and kiss that scar, to prove to her that I meant what I was saying.
She shook her head. “Whatever you say.”
“No, I’m serious. Are you saying that you’re going to deny me the sight of you in a bikini when we go on our trip to Miami because of your false belief that a scar makes you any less perfect-looking?”
