Noah turns toward Emma and explains,“Yeah. It’s always been me and Cora, since I wasreallylittle.”
Emma gives Noah a soft smile, and nods. “That must be fun. I’m sure you guys have had some adventures.”
Noah’s eyes light up, and the tension eases from my shoulders a bit. Admitting that you’re borderline glad your awful, abusive parents are dead isn’t exactly polite dinner conversation.
“Yeah. We go to the zoo, hiking, and she takes me swimming when it’s warm. Every Christmas, we get a real tree. She lets me help cut it down.”
I try to focus on eating, or the conversation Emma and Noah seem to be immersed in, but it’s impossible. Noah has such a sweet soul, sometimes I don’t think he realizes all he’s missing out on by lacking real parents. I know I take good care of him, but having your sister raise you instead of your dead, drug-addicted parents isn’t exactly a normal situation.
As if sensing my discomfort, Atlas leans into me, running his hand up my thigh. Even through the denim, I can feel the heat of his touch. He runs his hand down to my knee and gives it a quick squeeze before he moves it back up my thigh. I slam my legs together when he takes a lone finger and runs it up the inseam of my jeans.
I can’t believe he’d do this to me. Discreetly, I lower my hand andtry to pull his off my leg, but he seizes the opportunity to twine our fingers together instead. He pulls our joined hands to his lap, and I feel how hard he is. Stealing a glance at Noah, I see he and Emma are still engrossed in their conversation and aren’t paying attention to us.
“Stop it,” I hiss, looking at Atlas, trying to tug my hand back.
“Never,” he whispers back, turning his head to lock eyes with me. Normally his brown eyes look stormy and cold, but when they’re focused on me, they seem lighter. They remind me of the color of a tree in fall, once the leaves have changed and fallen. The wood is left to soak in the sun, and it no longer looks harsh and dark. In its place is something that looks warmer.
I tune out the rest of dinner after that, eating on autopilot. Emma’s food is delicious, but I find it hard to focus on anything with Atlas next to me. His thumb is rubbing across my skin, and it reminds me of a few nights ago. I can’t think straight when he touches me like this.
“So.” Emma’s voice breaks through my haze. “Who’s ready for dessert?” she asks, standing to clear plates.
“Here, let me help,” I offer as I stand, trying to shake out of his grip.
“Nonsense. Atlas, let go of that poor girl’s hand you’ve had in a death grip all night and grab the ice cream,” she orders, causing a blush to sprout on his cheeks. I guess we weren’t as discreet as I thought.
Once dessert is finished, I offer to help with dishes, but Emma won’t hear of it.
“It’s fine, Em,” Atlas interjects. “You cooked, so we can clean.”
“Can I use your bathroom?” Noah’s small voice cuts in.
Emma looks at him with a smile. “Of course, I’ll show you where it is.” She gives Atlas a look, then leads Noah out.
As soon as they’re out of earshot, I whirl around and glare at him. “What is wrong with you? You can’t do that.”
“Can’t do what?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“Touch me like that.” Closing the distance between us, I stare upat him. “Noah was sitting there, and so was your mom. I’m nervous enough without thinking about you touching me.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to his chest. “Does my touch make you nervous, Firefly? Does it make your heart feel like this?” he asks, placing my hand over his chest. The urge to pull away is at the forefront of my mind when I feel how fast his heart is beating. It’s a quick, steady thrum under my hand. “That’s what it feels like every time I’m around you, Cora.”
“That’s not normal,” I whisper, breaking eye contact to look where my hand is still covering his chest.
“No,” he admits. “It’s not.”
I don’t know why hearing that hurts until I feel his hand under my chin. Tilting my face toward his, he murmurs, “It’s so much fucking better,” as he brushes his lips against mine. It’s not a hard or controlling kiss, like the one on Saturday night. It’s soft, and I melt as he pulls me closer to his body. I move my hand to wrap it around his neck and pull him down to me.
His mouth moves on mine, and when I feel his teeth nip my bottom lip, I gasp. Taking advantage, Atlas slides his tongue against mine. He tastes of chocolate and devastation. It’s a dangerous combination. Gently pulling back, he brushes his lips over mine once more, then places his hand over my heart.
With his other hand, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear and leans down until he’s eye level with me. “Not normal, but it feels so right. I think you know that too. Don’t fight me… don’t fightus.”
Taking a step back, I clear my throat and gesture toward the sink. “We should probably get these done.”
Smiling, Atlas nods, and we silently work in tandem to clean everything up, stealing glances at each other. There’s something different about Atlas and the more time I spend with him, the more I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist him. Or that I want to.
When we’re done, we head back out to the couch where Noah is sleeping. Crap. Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s later than I thought.
As if sensing my panic, Atlas leans down and softly says, “Don’t worry. I just want to grab something, and we can head out.”
