Page 11 of Falling for the Forbidden
Sitting down on the end of the bed, I try telling myself that the flutters of excitement I feel in my belly are wrong, but it does little to dispel them. In fact, the more I think about our day together, the stronger they get. The need to go and see him nags at me, but I fight it. Putting his hoodie down on my chair, I attempt to distract myself with the TV.
I can only assume that Dad wants to make amends for this morning, because when I venture downstairs a while later for a glass of water, I find him and Jenny in the kitchen, surrounded by food.
“Ah, there you are. We were just going to shout up. Dinner’s ready,” Jenny sings as if being called down for a family meal is the norm around here.
“I’ll go and tell Ben,” Dad says, getting up from his stool.
“It’s okay, I’ll go.” I see something flash in Dad’s eyes at my suggestion, but when he doesn’t say anything, I spin and head back in the direction I came from.
Pausing for a second outside his bedroom door, I suck in a deep breath in preparation for seeing him again. Anticipation engulfs me and I feel like a schoolgirl waiting for her crush to walk into class.
After giving myself a little talking to, I lift my hand and knock. I’m expecting to hear movement from inside, so when I don’t, I’m a little disappointed.
“Ben?” I call, and after a few seconds, I push the door handle down. As expected, the room is empty. I guess he’s on his usual Saturday night out with his mates. My stomach drops. I stay where I am for a couple of seconds and take in his room. It’s tidier than I would have imagined. Stacks of CDs surround his player and a few items of clothing are thrown on a chair, but other than that, it’s tidy. The bed’s even made.
Closing the door behind me, I make my way back downstairs to embark on what’s going to be the most awkward family meal I think I’ve ever experienced.
* * *
Before I getinto bed some time before midnight, I pull the curtains back just to make sure he’s not warming the doorstep once again, but there’s no sign of him.
I’ve never really put all that much thought into where he goes and what he does, but suddenly I’m lying here, worrying about him. What if he gets too drunk and one of his friends isn’t there to help get him home? What if some other guy starts a fight? All these stupid thoughts run rampant through my head and I end up getting frustrated with myself.
My entire body is tense. Sleep is the last thing on my mind when I eventually hear footsteps creeping up the stairs. My heart races erratically as I picture him getting himself ready for bed.
When I hear a door click much closer than I was expecting, I sit bolt upright in bed. Light filters into my room and I squint as I try to focus on his silhouette in the doorway. My heart pounds in every part of my body as I wait for him to do something.
“Fuck. I shouldn’t be here.”
I watch, enthralled, as he brings his hands up and scrubs them over his shadowy face.
Expecting him to leave as quickly as he entered, I’m shocked when he reaches out and pushes the door closed. The small amount of light disappears and I’m left with hardly any vision. My other senses are immediately heightened, and the second he steps a foot forward, I stop breathing.
His manly scent gets stronger and goosebumps prick my skin as I wait for what he’s going to do.
When he reaches the bed, it dips as he puts his knee on the edge. I’m shocked when he lies down beside me. Reaching for my hand, he encourages me to join him.
We lie with only the sounds of our increased breaths filling the room. My head spins with the knowledge that he’s right here, next to me, on my bed.
The pillow rustles as he turns to look at me. I fight to keep my eyes on the darkness in front of me, but eventually the pull to look at him is too strong.
I can just make out his features. His eyes sparkle, reflecting the tiny bit of moonlight seeping in around the curtains.
He searches my face. I’ve no clue what he’s looking for.
I start to think that maybe this is it. That he’s come in here just to lie with me and hold my hand. It’s not unwelcome. It actually feels pretty incredible, but I’m confused, anxious, and desperate to find out what’s really going on in his head.
He rolls onto his side and I follow his lead. The heat from his body burns into me and my fingers twitch to reach out and touch him.
I suck in a breath when his face moves closer to mine. Our eyes stay locked, but, instead of doing what I’m expecting, he rests his forehead against mine. I swear he’s trying to tell me something, but my brain’s not exactly functioning correctly with him this close to me.
“Fuck,” he whispers, nudging his nose against mine. I can almost hear his internal argument. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. His honesty forces all the air from my lungs. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to fucking leave. Right now.”
I can’t. I’m powerless to do anything but lie there and wait. Time seems to stand still as we stare at each other in the darkness.
“Fuck,” is the last thing he says before I feel the softness of his lips against mine. His hand lands on my waist, the heat of his palm burning through my top.
He doesn’t move to deepen the kiss, but my need for him has my lips parting. The second he feels the movement, he pulls back and stares at me. My eyes have adjusted to the dark enough now to see the tension lining his face.
