Page 78 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
He shifts, boots scraping gravel. “That you… painted the shutters yellow.”
“Sunflower Blitz, per the can.” I step closer. His breath hitches again. “But you haven’t been inside.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I’m asking now.” The key lands in his palm before I can second-guess. His fingers close around it, slow, like he’s handling live bait.
“What’s this unlock?”
“The front door.”
“Evie.”
“Back door too—same key. Good security’s a myth here anyway. Mrs. Pevensie still ‘forgets’ to latch her goat pen.”
He turns the metal over, traces the indentation. “You hate permanence.”
“I hateregrettingpermanence.” The confession slips out, sharper than intended. I jab the key deeper into his hand. “Try it before you assume it’ll choke you.”
His laugh rumbles low. “You’re giving me a house key, not a snake.”
“Same difference. Both bite if you’re stupid.”
Silence. The bodhrán’s rhythm quickens, drums echoing the sudden thunder in my ribs.
Aeron lifts the key, squints at it. “Back door, huh? You know I’ll fix that sagging step.”
“It’scharming.”
“It’s a liability.”
“Your face is a?—”
His mouth cuts me off. No tentative brush, no question—just heat and hunger and fifteen years of sidelong glances. His hand cages my jaw, callouses scraping my neck as he tilts my head back. The key digs into my palm where our hands press between us.
I bite his lower lip. He growls, pulls me flush against him, and for once, I don’t fight the current.
Someone whistles. The lanterns sway.
We break apart, breaths ragged.
He thumbs the key. “Still have that compass we found?”
“In my desk. Why?”
“Good.” He tucks the metal into his pocket, grips my waist. “We’ll need it.”
“For…?”
His smirk ghosts my temple. “Adjusting the porch azimuth.”
I choke on a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Tetanus shot side effects.”
Another kiss, slower this time. Salt. Smoke. No turning back.
