Page 42 of Brutal Legacy

He grinned. “Yeah, well, maybe I could threaten my way into Heaven. It’s worth a shot, right?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Heat crept into my cheeks at the way he was staring at me. He’d drawn back for a better view and now, he continued to stare.

“Hmm, yeah, when it comes to you, I am… and you are—” He broke off and brought his eyes back to mine.

I tipped my chin back and enjoyed his reaction. This was the moment I’d sweated over my sewing machine for over a week for, wasn’t it? I wanted to be seen by him, and every single time, he delivered. That didn’t make it any less thrilling.

“And I’m?” I prompted.

He leaned closer and shook his head slowly, tutting under his breath. “You know what you are… you don’t need me to say it.”

I mirrored his slow head shake. “No, I really don’t.”

He couldn’t know how true that was. Brought up by my father alone since I could remember, always at home, cloistered and spoiled and hidden from the world, I really didn’t know.

He let out a long exhale and ran his finger down my cheek.

“Beneath this skin,a world waits to be discovered.

Beneath this mundane existence, galaxies stir in wonder.

Beneath the frozen river, currents still run.

Beneath stone and concrete, seeds push through?—

And those seeds can lift whole buildings.”

Elio’sdeep voice spoke his words like cool water running down a deep ravine. I drank them all up. They ran into my lonely, parched soul, and sated it.

“And?” I urged.

Every single poem in progress that he’d shared with me, he’d ended the same way. It was my favorite ending of every single ending that ever existed.

“And I was hers, and she was mine… and no one could take her from me… and no one ever would.”

I smiled contentedly at him. He slid the finger he had on my cheek down my neck and past my collarbones, weakening my knees. Lately, kissing hadn’t been enough to satisfy either of us. I wanted more, and I knew Elio did, too. Every kissing session we indulged in brought us closer and closer to crossing the line between us.

One thing that Elio didn’t know was how badly I wanted to cross that line. I wanted to erase it.

“It was mycena dei cento giornitonight,” I told him, shivering under his touch but not wanting to lose it.

“Oh, I know.” His eyes were decidedly hot and bothered by my dress.

“You did?”

He nodded lazily. “Why do you think I’m not in bed?”

“A sick horse?”

“I’m waiting around to see what time that motherfucker you hang around with brings you home at.”

I laughed. “What motherfucker? Tommaso?”

Elio nodded. “Mm-hmm, the one your father likes. The good boy. The suitable choice.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Please, the jealousy is so childish. We’re best friends. He’s like a brother to me.”

“No, he’s not, and I can guarantee that he doesn’t think like that,” Elio said shortly and pushed a hand through his flopping waves.

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