Page 40 of Taboo
The newly growing dragon’s wings take shape, no longer grounded but soaring.
The colors I notice are richer and more vivid than before—hopeful and defiant. This makes me happy because fused with this new energy, I just might be able to meet my deadline in two weeks.
With that in mind, I work faster, my brush moving with urgency, my agent’s email lying quiet in the back of my mind.When exhaustion creeps in, I am satisfied with the work I have done and set the brush down, and stumble to the chaise lounge by the window. Its deep blue velvet is cool and inviting. I sink gratefully into it. The fabric is soft against my arms and legs, and the sunlight warms my face like a gentle caress. Curling my sundress under me, my mind drifts to Max’s voice saying, “I love you, Amelia”.
It makes me smile. Soon, the room fades, the bookshelves blur, and my dragon’s eyes watch me as I slip into sleep.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
MAX
The conference room feels like a trap. I’m slouched in my chair, tie half-undone, fingers tapping restlessly on the table. Tom’s going on about Q3 projections, his voice a dull buzz, slides flashing numbers. My team’s watching, waiting for me to weigh in, but my head’s elsewhere—back home, with Amelia.
Her green eyes burn into me as she moans softly.
My chest tightens with a wild ache that won’t quit. Two weeks. Two damn weeks. That’s all I have to be with her, to drown in her. And yet, I’m stuck here, wasting time. My jaw clenches, frustration simmering, my pants are too tight with the memory of her hands, her lips, her...
It’s too warm in here. I should ask them to turn up the air con.
The clock says 12:17 p.m., and every tick is a jab, reminding me I shouldn’t be here. Lisa’s scribbling notes, glancing my way, probably wondering why I’m checked out. I don’t care. I should be home, lost in her, instead, I’m here.
Tom’s voice snaps me back. “Max, you good with this timeline?” His eyes pin me, expectant.
I force a nod, voice rough. “Yeah, it’s fine. Run it.” He hesitates, but I’m already up, chair gliding away.
“Uh, boss, I thought we could-”
“Send an email or something,” I tell him. “I’ve got somewhere to be.” I’m out of the room before anyone can stop me.
Lisa comes after me. “Sir?”
I stop to speak to her. “I’m going to be working remotely for the next two weeks,” I say, keeping it short. “If anything needs signing of my immediate attention, send it to the house, okay?”
She blinks, surprised, but nods. “Understood, Sir. Anything else I should know about?”
“Nope.” I get moving. The elevator ride’s too slow, each ding a drag, but I’m buzzing, alive with the thought of her. Amelia. A stray thought flashes into my mind.She’s your half-sister. Immediately, I push that thought down and let the want take over. I need her, need these two weeks to burn into me, guilt be damned.
The SUV’s engine roars as I peel out. The city blurs past—people, towers… Traffic glints under a hazy sun. I’m driving a bit too fast, weaving through cars, my hands tight on the wheel. But I truly can’t wait to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice.
The house comes into view. I park, tires crunching gravel, my pulse racing as I bound up the steps. The foyer’s quiet and warm with the scent of summer drifting through open windows.
There is no one around. I head upstairs, drawn to her studio. Like a moth to a flame. The door is half-open, spilling golden light. I nudge it wider, and there she is, curled and asleep on the chaise by the window, her blue sundress neatly tucked under her thighs, blonde hair fanned over the velvet. Her lips are parted, breathing is slow, and her face is soft and beautiful in a way thatstops my heart. I’m astonished by how utterly mesmerizing she is. God knows how long I stand there, taking her in—her flushed cheeks, the smudge of paint on her fingers, the peace she carries even now.
I glance at her easel, the painting of her dragon glows with color—emerald scales, and wings that look ready to fly. It’s stunning, alive with her fire, her heart, and I’m so in love with her it hurts like a deep ache in my chest. She’s poured herself into this, into us, and I can’t look away. I can’t stop the rush of need, of awe.
I lock the door and go to kneel beside the chaise, my hand brushing a strand of hair from her face, her skin warm and soft under my fingers. She stirs, a soft hum in her throat, and her eyes flutter open, green and hazy, catching the golden light spilling through the studio’s wide windows. Her lips curve into a small, sleepy smile, and it is like the first spark that ignites in my chest. It will turn into a fire that will eventually consume me.
“You’re back,” she mumbles.
I nod. “I am. Where’s Jason?”
“In his room.”
“Playing video games?”
“I think so.”
