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Elliot huffs. “I’m not sure if you’re being serious or projecting, but our parents have two very different visions of where they want their lives to go, so I can almost guarantee nothing is going to happen between them.”
A line creases between my brows. “But you don’t know for sure. Also, what do you mean, projecting?”
His eyes widen a fraction before he passes a hand between the two of us. “You’re a smart woman, Adelina. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“While I appreciate the compliment, I would like to ask for a little clarification. I believe we keep misreading what the other is saying, and it's becoming a tad cumbersome.”
He shakes his head, seemingly entertained he has to break such a trivial thing down further for me to understand. “Here we are, the last time we’ll ever be required to be in the same room. You’re snowed out of your home for the night, and I’ve brought you here to look at a drawing that could have been the start of us.”
The air is suddenly much warmer, as is my body. We’ve yet to come right out and be honest with the truth lingering just out of reach, I’m scared to actually grasp it. Scared of what it will mean. We’re still technically siblings after all.
As though he can read my thoughts, he takes a weighted step toward me, the same, dark intense stare from the kitchen back in place. It sends a shock of arousal into my blood, and I have to squeeze my fists together to keep my body from responding.
He stops less than a foot away, his chest so close it would brush against mine if he took a deep breath. His signature scent of clean musk, and a hint of something masculine washes over me, clinging to my skin like morning dew.
Hazel eyes rake over me slowly, but instead of it feeling as though he’s evaluating every aspect for flaws, it’s as if he’s memorizing every corner of my face. It’s….intimate.
I hold my breath, my heart pounding so hard that I can sense it in the tips of my toes. Everything around us is both unmoving and unsteady, and I’m unable to focus on anything else except him. How much I still want him, even after all this time.
When he’s finally done with his slow perusal of me, he leans an inch closer, his head dipping down and angling toward my ear. “I can make it clearer if you’d like, sweetheart.”
I swallow hard, grasping at any words that I might be able to string together and make a coherent sentence. “Maybe you should.”
A demand said in a voice I barely recognize, but Elliot’s response is worth every bit of courage it took.
He smirks, reaching up and hooking a finger beneath my chin to tip it up. “Do you see that drawing behind me?”
My eyes flit to the faded sharpie on the wall that barely shows the work of a mitochondria. Just recalling that day makes my heart squeeze. It was both the best and worst day of my romantic life.
I look back at Elliot and nod.
His lips thin. “Words. I like them used explicitly.”
My lashes flutter. “Y-yes.”
He smirks. “Do you remember that day?”
“Yes.” Why does my voice sound so far away?
“Did you know I planned to kiss you?”
“N—I’d hoped.”
An eyebrow tics up. “Because you wanted me to?”
The butterflies in my stomach ravage my insides, the wings flapping viciously as if to cut me if I don’t tell him the truth. “Yes, Elliot. I wanted you to kiss me.”
He drags his bottom lip through his teeth. “And what about now, sweetheart? Do you still want me to kiss you now?”
Yes.“You shouldn’t.”
“That’s not the question I asked.” He leans in further, letting his lips brush against mine in a whisper of a touch. My responding involuntary shiver makes him grin. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
Say it.
For once, say screw it and admit the truth, Adelina.
I try. My lips part. The breath comes to carry the sentence. But the words stick in my throat. I’m so scared of being hurt that even in times of certainty, I’m worried it’s not real.
