Page 85 of As the World Falls

That’s when she finally snaps out of her trance, looking down between us at the shreds in my hands. “You asshole! That was my favorite sleeping shirt.”

I shrug, dropping the scraps at her feet. “Not anymore,” I murmur before walking out of her bedroom because if I stayed in there any longer, I would probably put that catty mouth of hers to use.

“I can’t stand you,” she grumbles as she walks out behind me with the scraps and tosses them into the trash before returning to the kitchen.

“Have you decided what we’re watching?” I ask, ignoring her tantrum.

“No. Why don’t you just scroll through and see what looks good.”

I sit on the couch, grab her remote, and flip on the TV. “What is The Night A Woman Was Scorned? It’s on your most-watched list.”

She blushed again, and I decided to spend the night seeing how many times I could make her do that. “It’s nothing, just a show I like to watch when I can’t sleep.” I look back to the TV and put on the first episode, drawing a squeaking noise out of her. “Seriously, James, it’s a romantic vigilante show. We don’t have to watch it.”

“I want to watch what you watch. I’m curious.”

“Ugh,” she grumbles. “Whatever, fine.”

I smile as she goes back to the kitchen and starts dinner. Every time an action scene broke out, I would find her staring at me instead of the TV, like she was gauging my reaction. I found her interest in my responses to what seemed to be her favoriteshow amusing, so I made sure to act enthralled with it, which wasn’t too hard. The show was action-packed and definitely didn’t lack the romance she claimed it to be. I could see why she liked it. The main character is a hopeless romantic who does evil deeds in the name of love. She reminded me of Cecilia.

It was all so… nice.

Relaxing in her home, the sound and smell of her cooking us dinner. It was something I could get used to, and the idea of that didn’t scare me as much as it should.

In fact, after today, I felt drawn to her world more than ever before.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Cecilia

Movement under my ribs pulls me from my sleep. I slowly open my eyes, more sunlight than I’m used to burning my hazy vision as I try to decipher just where I’m at. I feel that movement again, and I grumble in frustration. I didn’t want to move. I was warm and comfortable when I didn’t feel whatever was moving beneath me. I snuggle back into the warmth when I feel pressure on the back of my head, and I slowly roll onto my side, opening my eyes again to look above me.

All I see is James’s stretched neck and chin pointing in the air as his head lies against the back edge of my couch. I slowly look around, realizing we had fallen asleep together during our show marathon. I had obviously already seen and loved it, but it was almost more fun watching James watch it for the first time. He also seemed to enjoy it more than he anticipated.

He even helped me cook the rest of dinner while we watched. It was strange. We moved around my kitchen perfectly synchronized as he helped me make my favorite dinner, creamy Cajun chicken pasta. It was hilarious having him help prepare it since he wasn’t used to cooking and had more of a finedining kind of palette, whereas I got cheap and easy recipes off the internet. He was baffled at the idea of Cajun chicken being paired with creamy pasta, but in the end, I knew he liked it. He didn’t admit it to me, but I could tell.

We ended up watching more of the show after dinner, surrendering to a full-on deep dive. It was nice being in each other’s presence without ulterior motives or the outside world caving in on us. He was more enjoyable that way. I liked it when he dropped his cutthroat persona and let himself be. I presumed it wasn’t something he did a lot. I also secretly hoped he would enjoy it more because I was there with him.

I turned my head in front of me, noticing the couch pillow I was laying my head on and James’s right arm curled over the top of my head while his left arm stretched over me and his hand rested in my hair. I was laid across his lap while he was sleeping in a sitting position with his head resting back on the couch. I wasn’t sure how we ended up in this position. The last thing I remembered was watching the show. But I was touching his bare chest, and warning bells were going off in my head just as a nauseating amount of butterflies took flight in my stomach.

I should move. I know I should. But I was warm, and being in his lap was kind of nice. He also had his hand in my hair, which I think he may have a thing for. I keep trying to convince myself that this flirtatiousness he’s been giving off toward me is just an act, but the closer we grow, the harder it gets to deny. I felt something here as much as I didn’t want to. How is it that the person I thought I despised turned out to be the only one who could make me feel seen and validated? Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just as corrupt as he is.

Now, I felt even more guilty for trying to tear down all my brother's hard work and the empire James had created for himself, especially after essentially coming from nothing. He was an orphan and still worked his way to the top, even if therewas some corruption along the way. How could I ruin all of that for him, knowing what I know about him now or feeling what I feel about him now? I didn’t think I could, but it also didn’t mean I could ever be with someone like him, even if it were all I thought about.

Because, at the end of the day, he was a criminal and a murderer. No matter how inviting he made it seem, I could never involve myself in that kind of life.

I finally think better of it and turn onto my back to sit up, but then his hand leaves my hair, and his arm wraps around my stomach, locking me into place on his lap. I look up at him, seeing that he still hasn’t moved his head or opened his eyes. I slowly wrap my hand around his wrist to move his arm, but I feel him shift me tighter against him.

“Don’t,” he murmurs.

I still in his lap. “Are you awake?”

“Yes. Please don’t move.”

“James…” He finally lifts his head and looks down at me, and his sleepy eyes, which look softer than I’ve ever seen, nearly render me speechless.

“I like the way you feel in my arms. I’ve never held anyone before,” he gently admits.

I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me and pierce me in the chest like I knew they would. Why did he have to be so painfully honest all the time? His voice was also deep and sleepy. I liked it way too much.

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