Page 51 of Whispers of Fire

There she is.

Wild blonde hair falling on her chest like Venus herself knocking at my door.

My girl.

Despite my reluctance for whatever this is between us, there’s no fuckin’ doubt for me anymore that she is indeed, mine .

Her tiny silhouette drowns in her long brown nightgown, only revealing the shapes of her hips against the fabric. Her thick blonde hair dances on her shoulders, making me ache to run my fingers through it. I don't even have the time to open it for her, she's already in, barefoot, leaving her shoes at the door, a tiny smile on her face, her icy blue eyes filled with something wild inside them.

“Hi,” I say to her, and she answers me back, her full lips mesmerizin’ me. I noticed that there’s a few words I can read on her lips, basic stuff like “Hi” and ‘Thank you”. As she walks toward the place next to me on the couch, I make a mental note to find a course on lip reading to complete the one I already follow.

As she settles beside me on the couch, she fidgets, playing with her hands. There's a subtle tension in the way she holds herself, a yearnin’ that mirrors my own desire to feel her close. I don’t move, trying to not overwhelm her.

I’m already fuckin’ grateful she’s even here since our last conversation.

I watch as she shifts slightly, her movements almost hesitant as if she's unsure whether to bridge the distance between us.

C’mon, sweetheart, just get in here.

Without a word, I open my arm, silently inviting her to come close. Her brows relax and she leans into me, biting her lower lips, her body molding perfectly against mine as if it belonged there all along. She nestles against my chest, her head finding its rightful place on my shoulder. I feel her hand tentatively reach out, fingers grazing lightly over the fabric of my shirt, before coming to rest over my heart. I freeze instantly, caught off guard.

She must feel my heart pounding like crazy underneath the fabric.

Gonna be hard to pretend I don’t feel anything now.

For a moment, we simply sit there, the book on my lap while she’s melting into my arms.

Where she belongs.

“Alright, you wanted me to read to ya?” She nods against my chest. “Do ya want the same book or another?” Fidgeting in my arms, she points to the book on my lap.

“Thought so.” I take the book with my free arm and make myself comfortable enough to be able to turn the page with my other arm. I pull her even closer into my chest, surrounded by my body at all sides. She pulls the blanket onto her body, but I tuck it even higher.

Don’t want her to be cold.

Still talking about walls?

Fuck.

“Alright, you need anythin’ you tell me, Angel,” I say before kissing her forehead. I’ve been dying to do that since she stepped into my home a few minutes ago. I hear her sigh lightly, as if she was finally letting go, like she had been waiting for me to do that since she arrived.

“Chapter 3,” I start reading for her and hopefully it will shut up my mind, keep it away from drifting into dark territories and questions about why I should try to keep her away from me.

It's just her, me and the book, with nothing else mattering in that moment. No fuckin’ cult, no club, nothin’. Just my girl and I, like a fuckin’ picture of what our life could be if I had the guts to let her in. I sneak glances at her from time to time, takin’ in the way her eyes sparkle with each turn of the pages, the way her lips curve into a smile at the funny parts.

Those lips.

Clenching my jaw, I try to remind myself where she comes from, her story, her life. Her being here with me, in my arms, is already way outside her comfort zone, and I don’t want to scare her away. Rose has nothin’ to do with the chicks hangin’ out at the club, ready to open their legs for anyone, wearing revealing clothes that leave nothin’ to the imagination. Not saying that I’m a big fan of her long brown dresses. I actually would rather see her with a tight pair of jeans, a black t-shirt molding her chest and a property cut with my name on it.

A property cut now?

Yeah, I’m so fucked.

The vision of her wearing a property cut makes my blood pump harder. I shake my head, trying to calm down and fight the urge to imagine her wearing my name on her back. After two more chapters and almost an hour and a half, I close the book.

“Want more, Angel?”

She shakes her head against me. Damn, even if I’m learning more sign language everyday online, I'll never get tired of her way of talking to me with her adorable gestures. She looks up at me, her eyes wide, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and I can't help but smirk back at her.

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