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That none of it is real.
But instead of heeding the warning in my grip, Elizabeth inches closer.
My heart lurches.
Her head creeps onto my pillow.
A tawny curl tickles my chin.
Her hair smells like coconut milk and jasmine.
Her eyes are uncertain as she stares at me.
Neither one of us speaks.
I don’t move.
I just watch her.
Part of me is urging her to come closer. The other part screams that we shouldn’t cross this line.
Not now.
Not ever.
“Brogan,” Elizabeth whispers.
I grunt.
“What I’m feeling right now,” she sucks in a breath, “it’s not pity.”
“What is it?” I whisper.
“I don’t know.”
Knots twist in my stomach.
That’s not enough.
I know what the hell I’m feeling.
I know that I love her.
Even if I wish to heaven I didn’t.
There’s no uncertainty in me.
“I…” she gives me a shaky smile. Her exploring touch moves from my hands to my face. “I want you to break the contract.”
My breath hitches. “Elizabeth—”
She leans over and presses her lips to mine.
It’s a soft, uncertain kiss.
Teeming with questions.
With insecurity.
