Before I can stop myself, I move her hair from her face. My heartbeat fills my ears, and goose bumps rise across my body, lifting the hairs on my arms as our gazes remain locked. Her chest rises and falls with steady breaths, and the quiet is too quiet.
“Gable.”
The whispered word has my attention dropping to her lips, and images crash through my mind. Of kissing her, of her whispering my name, crying out, begging me to touch her?—
I snatch my hand back. “It’s almost seven.”
Standing, I almost run from the room, my conscience on my heels. Back in my room, I slam the door shut and rest my back against it.
And I remind myself that even if she hadn’t been Asher’s, she can never, ever be mine.
Chapter 33
Ella
My heart is beating a mile a damn minute. I can still feel Gable’s fingers in my hair, still feel the way he looked at me, and I can’t shake it. It’s after midnight and I’m trying to write, but every time my fingers hover over the keyboard, I remember his face.
I should have pulled back. At first, I’d been half-asleep and sat up out of confusion, but then, I hadn’t wanted to move.
And when he’d brushed my hair back, I’d lost breath. He’s never touched me like that before, barely touched me at all, and it sent shivers down the back of my neck. His palm felt warm, and my heart did something it shouldn’t for a man I barely like.
A man who is Asher’s best friend and brother.
I slam the laptop closed and cover my mouth, glaring into the still-burning fire.
Nothing happened. We didn’t kiss, didn’t even really come close, but it feels like a door has been flung open, one I hadn’t even known existed until those few seconds.
Guilt coils in my belly like writhing snakes.
I feel like I’m betraying Asher, and maybe I am.
If I feel like this, what is Gable going through?
Or maybe he feels nothing, because he doesn’t deal in emotions. He deals in facts. And the fact is,nothing happened. He’ll probably go about his day tomorrow like normal.
Because nothing did happen. Just a few butterflies for the killer.
Asher was a killer, too.
Yeah, but a romantic one, at least.
Does that cancel out murder?
It did for you, apparently. You’ve mourned him for months. Regardless, Gable is an ass.
I know that.
Then why are you still thinking about nothing?
“I can’t write if you’re gonna pester me,” I snap.
“I’m getting a drink.”
I jump. Gable is standing at the bottom of the stairs in gray sweats and a T-shirt. He folds his arms and taps his fingers against his biceps.
Why are you suddenly noticing his arms, Ella?
“Is that okay, your majesty?” he asks.
