Page 52 of Whispers of Fire

"Thank you," she silently says as I watch her perfect mouth move and catch her gaze on my lips at the same time.

Does she…?

Does she want me to kiss her?

I want it so bad I could crush a wall with my fist right now. I brush a stray strand of hair from her face, tuckin’ it behind her ear.

"Anytime, Angel," I reply, my voice hittin’ a lower tone I didn’t know I had. Putting the book back on the table in front of us, I incline my body towards her, pullin’ us even tighter, her lips so close I could just drop my head to her and crush them with hers. The tension between us thickens and I lean in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Surely she must feel somethin’, it can’t just be in my mind, or could it be?

From the moment I first saw her, I’ve been fighting the undeniable pull she has on me and that seems to become stronger as the days pass. The heat of her breath mingles with mine, her eyes searching mine for somethin’. My heart pounds in my chest as I inch closer, my senses on high alert, every nerve ending tinglin’ with anticipation. The sweet scent of vanilla surrounds us, her fragrance filling the air of my home. I lift my hand and cup her cheek, the other one drifting on her lower back.

I’m fuckin’ burning for her.

Her lips part ever so slightly, like a silent invitation I’m dying to accept. It's like we're suspended in time, caught in this moment where nothing else exists except us.

Just as our lips are about to meet, she exhales, her lower lips trembling before opening up for me.

“Vox,” I hear in a barely audible whisper, wincing while the sound escape her perfect lips.

She, fuck, did she just talk?!

She said my name, with the sweetest broken voice I've ever heard. But it looked fuckin’ painful and that won’t do.

“Angel,” I say, strokin’ her jaw with my thumbs, “I hear ya,” pulling my forehead on hers, amazed by what she just did. One day, I’ll ask her what happened to her voice, why it is so painful for her to make any sounds, but not right now. Right now we don’t need fuckin’ words. She’ll tell me when she’ll want to.

“Love hearin’ your voice, Angel,” I tell her, “But if it’s painful for you to talk, I’ll never want to hear another word comin’ from your perfect lips,” I manage to say despite my longing to hear more of it. Despite loving her sweet voice dripping like hot lava on my heart, I don’t want her to hurt herself, especially not for me. I never cared that she couldn’t talk, not since day one. We have our own way to communicate and that’s more than enough for me.

Her skin is warm beneath my touch, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. I can hear the sound of her inhale, shallow and ragged, echoin’ in the silence between us. She wets her lips with her tongue, sendin’ a surge of heat coursing through me. It's like she's gettin’ ready to kiss me, to finally give in to the pull that's been drawing us together.

But before I can close the remainin’ distance, she recoils, a look of shock flashin’ across her face. Panic flares in her eyes as she stands and puts the blanket back on the couch.

Fuck, I went too far.

“Angel, it’s okay,” I tell her, fuckin’ hating myself for pushin’ her too much. I stand to get to her but she’s already joggin’ to the bay window. Putting a strong hand on the handle of the window, I stop her from running away from me.

Stay, please, Angel, stay.

“Don’t run away from me, Angel, not again.” Not like last week. I’ve never been a fuckin’ begger but this time I would be ready to kneel for her and make sure we’re okay. Her leaving me like this triggers the hell out of me and sends me back to the night of the accident when I lost my family.

Placin’ my palm on the center of my chest, I move it in a clockwise motion, meaning “please” in sign language. Don’t fuckin’ care that I have to beg. I’m not lettin’ her go like that, just before we were about to fuckin’ kiss.

Her eyes widen at my gesture, shocked to see that I’ve just signed to her.

“C’mon, come here, I know you don’t want us to talk but I can’t fuckin’ let you go like that,” I say, lacing my fingers with her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen. I know she’s scared, so I’ll have to go slowly if I want a chance to see her again.

What about the walls?

Reluctantly, she allows me to lead her towards the kitchen. With a swift motion, I retrieve a pen and notebook from the drawer, setting them on the counter before her.

"Still learning," I explain, gesturing towards the notebook. "We'll have to use these till I get the hang of it." The look of astonishment on her face is priceless. She clearly hadn't expected me to learn sign language for her.

Well, I fuckin’ am.

"Why did you run away?" I ask, leaning back against the sink, giving her space.

She writes a response before sliding the notebook across the countertop.

---