Page 41 of Tangled Hearts
Nic’s breath shudders out of him, and for a second, I think what I said doesn’t matter—that he’s going to pull awayanyway. His fingers flex against my skin and with a long exhalation that I can practically feel, he goes back to his soft exploration.
I don’t want to give him any reason to stop or ask me to ask him to stop, so I work really hard to keep still. To control my breathing. To keep my heart under control just in case he can hear it like I can.
Nic keeps touching me, and I give up completely on the movie, letting my eyes fall closed instead, every brush of his fingers blurring the edges of my mind a little bit more. I melt. Into him, into the couch, into this feeling.
Into this safety.
Is it a bad idea? Definitely. Is it smart? Not at all.
But his hand on me and the steady sounds of our breathing feel safe. And I want to bask in that just a little while longer.
Chapter 15
Nic
Ican tell the exact moment that Eli falls asleep. If the slow slumping of his body didn’t give him away, the soft snores coming from my lap would have. This is a dangerous game, and I know that. But I can’t make myself stop.
And worse? I’m not sure that I want to.
Ilikethis. I like having Eli in my lap. I like the way his skin feels under my fingers, under my palms. I like the way he arches into me. The way his breath catches.
I drag my palm up his back again, exploring the smooth skin with my fingertips. I want to memorize him, commit this and the feel of him to memory. I never want to forget what his sleeping body in my lap feels like. The way his back rises and falls with each slow, even breath. The quiet, breathy sounds he makes when I’m touching him. The way he tries to choke them back.
Jesus, I’m a fucking creep. He’s vulnerable. He wants a friend. Companionship. And I’m sitting here… taking in the warmth of his body, soaking in his touch like a fucking fiend.
My chest goes tight, and I drop my head against the back of the couch, closing my eyes and trying to wrestle the guilt down.
I can do this. I can give him what he needs. I can stop myself from blurring the lines. I can keep myself sane. I can protect him. Even if it means protecting him from myself.
I run my hand slowly down his back again, then up, brushing my thumb over his nape. Just one more time. Just once. Just in case I don’t get to touch him this way again.
It’s a lie. A well-crafted lie. I’d touch him like this all night. I would, but I shouldn’t. I won’t. But my hand keeps moving. Up and down. Fingers exploring each knot of his spine. Thumb brushing his side.
When he shifts in his sleep, turning his face on my thigh, he blows out a gust of air. I feel the warmth through my sweats against my cock, and it swells.
Oh God. I can’t be reacting like this. I can’t. So I pull my hand out from under his shirt like his skin is going to set me on fire if I don’t. He frowns, a little furrow forming between his perfect brows. I try to move him off my lap, but his hand comes up, clutching my shirt tightly in his fist.
I force a deep breath into my lungs and carefully slide my hand under his head, sitting him up. He wakes for the briefest second, his eyes fluttering as he looks around the dark living room. “W’as happening?”
“Shhh,” I whisper, running my thumb down his cheek like I’ve somehow lost all control of myself. He leans into my touch, his head rolling to the side and his eyes closing again. Fuck fuck fuck. “Let’s get you to bed, doll.”
He doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t. He’s half-asleep, lost in la-la land. I hook an arm under his thighs and wrap the other around his back, pulling him fully into my lap. I know I shouldn’t, but I hold him there for just a second. Nothing about this is good for him or forme, but there’s just something about holding him like this that has my heart tumbling over itself.
When I stand, his head falls against my shoulder, and he exhales a heavy breath that has goosebumps rising on my skin. I carry him down the hallway and into his room.
He doesn’t stir. Not as I turn the blankets back, not as I settle him in the center of the bed, not even when I pull the blankets up around him. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. His lashes are fanned across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. I could stare at him for hours, watching the rise and fall of his chest. I’m really in over my fucking head.
He wants a friend. A friend. That’s it. And even if he didn’t? Even if he wantedmore,I can’t offer him that. I can’t. Holden would never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself.
No. Those are things I can’t let myself think about. Places I can’t let my thoughts go.
I back away from his bed slowly, then turn and step into the hallway. After giving myself a couple of minutes, I shut the house down for the night and take myself to bed.
I should feel relieved. I didn’t cross any lines. I didn’t do anything I’ll regret. I didn’t hurt my growing friendship with Eli, or my budding relationship with Holden. Ishouldfeel good. All I feel is fucking empty. Empty and lonely.
I’m tempted to text Silas. I always am when I feel like this. But no. I won’t do that to myself. Not tonight.
I close my eyes, trying to erase the way Eli looked in my lap, trying to ignore the tingling I feel in my fingers, like the ghost of his skin still exists there. I have to stop this. I can be Eli’s friend. That’s all. I can’t touch him. I can’t look at him that way. I can’t allow myself to.
