Page 43 of Tangled Hearts
“I am,” he says, glancing at me.
I pick the empty pizza boxes up, taking them to the trash, before rejoining him on the couch. We go back to watching the show. I’m trying to keep my gaze solely on the TV, but every so often, I can feel Eli’s eyes on me.
About halfway through the second episode, he sighs. It’s not a happy sigh or a relaxed sigh. It’s a sigh that I’ve found means he has something to say, but he’s not sure if he should. I glance at him. “Everything okay?”
He bites at his thumbnail, nodding slowly. “It’s just… I was, um, wondering if you think it would be okay if I laid my head on your leg again.”
Fuck. This is such a bad idea. It’s not even that I don’t want him to. It’s more that I want him totoomuch.
I must take too long to answer because his face falls. “It’s okay if not. I know I can be a lot. If you want, I canjust—”
“Eli.” He stops talking, his eyes wide and trained on mine before he quickly darts them away. If I ever come across his bio dad, I might actually end up with murder charges. I adjust until I’m sitting with my feet on the coffee table, then I pat my thigh. “Come on.”
“Really?” The disbelief in his tone has my heart aching. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
He scrambles over, resting his head on my thigh. Unlike last night, my hand takes on a mind of its own, and I slide it under his shirt before he has a chance to ask. He draws in a sharp breath, and I freeze. “I’m sorry.”
I start to pull my hand out. “No,” he says in a rush. “Please don’t stop.”
I let out a shaky breath, and when I start stroking his skin in slow, even passes, he shudders hard, whimpering a bit. I pretend not to notice, and he pretends he didn’t, and another episode starts.
My fingers dance over his skin, and just like last night, I’m completely lost in the feel of him. He’s got a tiny patch of skin on his right shoulder blade that feels like it might be a scar, and there’s a spot under his ribs on the left that seems to tickle him if I touch it too lightly.
I keep my eyes on the show, but I’m not paying any attention to it at all. Eli shifts like he’s about to roll, and I move my hand just in time for him to flip onto his back. He’s asleep, I think. And if he’s not, he’s very close to it. “Eli,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move, and instead of letting him go—instead of waking him up like I should—I do something incredibly stupid.
I slide my hand back under his shirt, the front this time. His skin here is even softer. I don’t explore him this way. Not the way I did with his back. Not without his permission. And especially not while he’s asleep. But I do settle my hand over his lower stomach, let my fingersspread wide, and feel the way his diaphragm moves with each breath he inhales and exhales.
I study his face. His pale skin and his dark lashes. The little freckle under his eye. The bow of his upper lip. Fuck, he’s flawless. My heart gives a hard thump, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
If I don’t put a stop to this soon, I’m going to do something terrible. Something I can’t take back. But for now? For tonight? I just want a little more.
Chapter 16
Eli
“Do I like Nic, Kassie?” She stares at me, mouth open and panting, and tongue hanging out. No help, as usual.
“It’s not that I think he’s like… anything special, right?” I say, glancing at her again as I take off my eyeliner for the night. “He’s just really hot. And he gives the best cuddles.”
She whines. “Not better than you, of course.” Her tail thumps on the floor, and then she’s standing up and trotting out the door of my room and into the hall. Fucking traitor.
I turn back to my reflection with a huff, leaning closer to the mirror, using another makeup wipe to remove my highlighter. It’s not that I’m, like, catching feelings for Nic or anything. That would be stupid. And kind of impossible. Sure, he’s stupid-hot, and he smells so good, and he’s got this kind of magnetic energy that you can’t help but want to bask in. That doesn’t mean anything, though.
I sit back in my seat and blink at myself. Or maybe I’m just delusional.
It doesn’t matter either way. Nic is so far above and beyond my league that even if Ididlike him—which I don’t—he’d never see me that way.
Sure, he’s not really what I expected, and he’s way nicer than I gave him credit for. And he’s fun. But I’m just… me. He’s probably just being nice. I can’t let myself believe it might be more than that.
When I’m done taking off my makeup, I change into something more comfortable. I’m not putting on an oversized t-shirt to give Nic room to put his hand up it if he chooses. That would be dumb. No, I’m doing it because it’s way more comfortable to lounge around in.
I look at myself one last time in the mirror, running my hand through my hair quickly. My soul almost leaves my body when I step into the living room. Nic’s stretched out on the couch. He’s got the remote in his hand, a foot planted on the floor, and his other leg resting against the back of the couch.
He looks comfortable, both literally and like his stomach would be the perfect place to rest my head. My throat goes dry at the thought of lying between his legs and snuggling into him. I can’t help it that I’m a slut for cuddles, alright?
