I pulled him in for another kiss. He let me—but this one was slower, less desperate. Oddly tender. Almost vulnerable.
“Eli,” he breathed, stepping back suddenly, eyes going wide. Then he turned away with a startled laugh. “Fuck. That hasn’t happened on its own before. I’m usually more in control.”
I had no idea what that meant—or why he lifted a hand to his mouth, hiding his face. But maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. Nicolas was touch-starved, desperate for contact, for connection. He’d just told me that without saying a word about it.
“When was the last time you let anyone touch you like that?” I asked quietly.
He turned to me, his expression strange. “Like that?” He gave another breathless laugh. “It’s been a long time, Eli.”
That was true. I could hear it in his voice.
“You moved in next door,” I whispered, watching him. I knew I should be afraid, but I wasn’t. “And you can move impossibly fast. And I remember you. I’ve never met you, but I have these memories of you—and it’s like it was yesterday.”
Nicolas froze.
“Who are you?” I asked again. My voice lacked heat, carrying only a desperate, lost note I didn’t like but couldn’t suppress.
“Good God,” Nicolas whispered, staring at me, stricken. “You’re the most beguiling mix of strength and vulnerability, aren’t you?”
“I know the fucking feeling,” I shot back, heart in my throat. “Nicolas, I need honesty from you.”
He let out another startled laugh. “I don’t know if I can do that.” He paused, shaking his head, his gaze haunted as itlocked with mine. “And you don’t understand how funny that is. Because I always tell the truth. Always.”
“Then why can’t you give that to me now?”
His eyes closed and he swallowed hard, oddly emotional, like my words were somehow difficult to hear. And when he opened his eyes again, his expression was more open and vulnerable than I had ever seen it. “Because I’m afraid of scaring you,” he admitted softly. “I haven’t been afraid of anything in a very long time, but I can safely say that I’m afraid of that.”
Once more, I somehow knew he was telling the absolute truth. But it was maddening, because his words made no rational sense. He barely knew me. Yet there was a strange familiarity I felt with him too—something I couldn’t explain. As if I had been waiting for him my entire life. Like part of me had always been tense and now that he was here, close enough to touch, that tension had abruptly vanished. As though his nearness meant I could finally relax.
It was insanity. This was insanity.
But it was also true.
The idea that Nicolas was afraid of me—afraid that he might accidentally hurt me in a way he couldn’t ever take back—shifted something deep in my chest. It was obvious he wasn’t used to fear. And yes, I had been right: he wasn’t used to being touched either, even though he clearly needed it. And he certainly wasn’t used to giving someone honesty when it might actually cost him something real.
One truth snapped into place for me with absolute certainty: Nicolas had been alone for a very long time.
Somehow—and perhaps it was the peak of my newfound madness—that realization wiped everything else away.
I retrieved my pants from the floor and pulled them on.
Nicolas watched me with a strange look. I got the impression there was an internal battle raging within him—as though halfof him hoped I would tell him off and leave, but the other half wanted to stop me, to do anything to keep me. Maybe he wanted both equally.
But after a moment, he copied me, pulling his pants back up and re-fastening his belt.
“Eli, look, I understand if you need to—”
“Stop talking.” I didn’t say it harshly, but his lips snapped shut, and I could see the fear in his eyes again. Once more, raw emotion twisted through my chest, and I wasn’t sure what I was about to do until I did it.
I stepped forward and took him by the hand. His skin was smooth and warm against mine. And even though it shouldn’t have, it felt right.
He looked down, staring at our joined hands in confusion. “Eli—”
“Nicolas, it’s okay.”
I wasn’t sure what I meant byokay. Was it okay that he had dropped into my life and taken over every single one of my thoughts? Was it okay that he had bought the house next door and moved in with impossible speed? That he’d admitted to following me, to stalking me? That he couldn’t explain any of it—but was worried his honesty might frighten me away?
None of that was actually okay, but it could wait. I wasn’t letting him off the hook forever, but I could for now.
