Page 37 of Unspoken Words
“It’s also sad,” I whispered, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ears.
“Why’s that?”
“Because if Aaron hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be in your arms right now.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily, his lips parting. I waited for his words, but then … sometimes they never came.
“Fate would have you in my arms regardless, Eloise.”
Blinking, I allowed what he’d said to seep deep into my bones because I wanted those words imprinted there, forever—an eternal reminder that he and I would always be together, no matter what happened.
“I hope you’re right,” I said, stretching up to meet his lips, gently coaxing them open with my tongue.
He groaned and his jaw relaxed, granting me entry, the subtle taste of pizza and Coke a delicious addition.
“Mm …” I mumbled. “I’m so glad we like the same pizza.”
Connor deepened the kiss, and I couldn’t help but giggle and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, always wanting more. Never satisfied. Thoughts of giving him my virginity in that moment drifted across my mind. I was ready. I wanted to. I wanted him. We’d been together for four solid years, and I knew he wanted it too. He’d said so, a few times, while remaining sensitive to my true readiness.
Reaching down to the hem of my t-shirt, my intent was to guide it over my head, but then the movie credits rolled, and the sound of Celine Dion singing “When I Fall in Love” filled the room.
“Oh my God, I love this song!” I blurted, jumping off his lap.
“Huh? But … your top—”
“It’s so beautiful. The lyrics. Her voice.” I swayed my hips from side to side, my eyes closed, the song consuming me.
“It’s nothing special.”
“Nothing special?” I ignored his uninterested tone and sang along. “Sing it with me. I’ll do Celine’s part, you do the guy’s part.”
Connor grabbed a magazine from the coffee table and flicked over a couple of pages. “Na, I’m good.”
“Pleeeeeeese,” I begged, cutting short my plea to belt out the chorus.
He laughed, but I didn’t care. He was the singer, not me. “I’ll sound better if you sing it too.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.”
“Ugh! Fine. I’ll show you my boobs then.”
He snapped the magazine shut. “Deal.”
Smiling, I flicked up my t-shirt, the movement swift.
“That’s cheating. All I saw was your pink bra.”
I rolled my eyes and repeated the motion, this time slower, seductive even.
“I’m still not seeing boobs. Lose the bra.” His voice was rough, like gravel, the sound heating my core.
“I will if you sing.”
He hummed instead, but the deep timbre of his voice was still evident. I loved his voice: the tone, the control, the rasp, and the passion behind it.
Slipping off my t-shirt, I unclipped my bra and dangled it from my fingertip. “Sing,” I demanded, taking in his hungry stare.
Connor stood up and took a step toward me, so I stepped back and repeated myself, “Sing or it goes straight back on.”
