Page 77 of Monster in the Moonlight

I tip my face up toward his. “I think maybe you’re an angel. My angel.”

With pain swimming in his pale eyes, he shakes his head. “Don’t say such things. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Well, I don’t care who you are. I’m just glad you’re with me now.”

“You wouldn’t feel the same if you knew…” he trails off, because the magnetism between us has taken hold once again.

I feel it like it’s a tangible rope, pulling us closer, our lips closing the distance inch by slow inch.

When our mouths connect, I’m overcome by bliss.

Ellister’s kiss fixes everything.

The heat. His breath caressing my flesh. The taste of him—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever had on my tongue.

It’s addicting.

This little make-out session is different from our other sexy moments. The first kiss we shared last night had an awkwardness to it because of Ellister’s reluctance. The incident this afternoon was out of control and rough.

But these soft pecks and slow strokes are wholly intentional. Unhurried, like we have all the time in the world.

There’s a comfort in the way Ellister gently grips the side of my neck. A tenderness in how he breaks away every now and then to rub the tip of his nose against mine.

I like this more than anything else we’ve done so far because I feel like we’re on the same page for once. We’re both giving in to whatever this relationship is.

No matter howtemporaryit is.

When a baby starts crying outside, invading our bubble, I pull back to study Ellister’s serious face from a few inches away.

I don’t know much about him, but I’d like to. I want to know why he always seems so sad, where he’s from, and what his family is like.

“Tell me something about you.”

“Like what?”

“Anything.” I think for a second and throw out the first personal question I can come up with. “What’s your worst fear?”

Flattening his lips, Ellister doesn’t take long to answer, “Living forever.”

Huffing out a laugh, I rest the side of my head against his shoulder and give his abdomen a playful push. “I’m serious. I mean a real fear.”

“That is real. Can you imagine how monotonous your days would get if you knew they would never end? This is the way it’s supposed to be.” He points at the movie.

It’s gotten to the part where the old man is a widower, dealing with the aftermath of his wife’s death. It’s romantic and emotional.

“You want devastation and grief?”

“I want the satisfaction of a life well-lived,” Ellister clarifies. “You grow, you accomplish, and you die. If you’re lucky, you leave something good behind you. There’s a structure in it.”

I observe the scene with new appreciation.

Ellister’s right. Who wouldn’t want memories, wisdom, and a lifetime of love?

“Yeah, I guess I understand what you’re saying.”

“Why, what’s your fear?”

“The opposite. I’m afraid to die,” I admit quietly without looking away from the screen.

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