She's beautiful.
I stand in the shadows of the stacks, just watching her. She's completely absorbed in her work, making notes in the margins of a book, occasionally typing something on her laptop. Every so often, she pushes her glasses up her nose in a gesture that's so unconsciously adorable it makes my chest ache.
This is what Giulia was talking about. This feeling. This overwhelming need to protect her, to be near her, to make her happy. But also this terror. This fear that I'm not capable of loving her the way she deserves. That I'll hurt her. That I'll become just another man trying to control her life.
I think about what Luca told me. About Whitmore's embezzling, his gambling debts, his plan to move up the wedding. About the danger she's in. I should tell her. I should give her the information and let her decide what to do with it.
For the first time in my life, I genuinely don't know what to do. I can’t stay away from her. I can’t let him have her. I can’t destroy her life, and I can’t have her when her life is intact.
Savannah looks up suddenly, as if sensing my presence. Her eyes scan the stacks, and for a moment, I think she sees me. But then she looks back down at her work, and I realize she was just stretching, taking a break.
I should leave. I should go home and figure out what I'm going to do. But I can't move. I'm rooted to the spot, watching her, memorizing every detail. The way she bites her lip when she's concentrating. The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The way she smiles slightly when she finds something interesting in her reading.
And I know that Giulia might be right.
For the first time in my life, I might be in love.
11
SAVANNAH
I’ve barely slept since that night at the library.
Every night, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, my body still humming with remembered sensations, my mind racing through what happened. What I let happen. What I wanted to happen.
What almost happened.
I can still feel Romeo's hands on me. His mouth. The way he made me come apart. The way I begged him for more. The way I would have let him take everything if fear hadn't finally broken through the haze of desire.
I’m horrified with myself, with how much I still want it. I’m engaged. I’m promised to another man. I’m supposed to be planning a wedding and honoring the commitments my family has made.
Instead, I let Romeo touch me in a library. I let him make me come. I would have let him take my virginity against a bookshelf if I hadn't panicked at the last second.
What kind of person does that make me?
I swear Ifelthim in the library tonight, even though I didn’t see him anywhere. It smells like another rainstorm tonight, thescent of ozone seeping through my cracked-open window, and I let my hand drift down between my thighs as I close my eyes tightly shut.
I told Romeo that I didn’t think of anything when I touched myself before. It was true. I never knew what to imagine; who to think of. I just let sensation take over and chased what my body was craving without really knowing what it was.
Now I know what to imagine, who to think of. And I know it’s wrong… but I can’t help myself. My thoughts are full of him as my fingers glide over my clit, sliding through all the wetness that’s already there, just remembering what he did to me. I picture him in the library, the flashes of him in the lightning, the feeling of him hard against my hip. I remember the sounds he made, the gasps and groans of pleasure, when he wasn’t even being touched.
I wonder if he went home and did this, too, remembering me.
Just that thought is enough to spill me over the edge, a hair-trigger of pleasure that makes me bury my face in the pillow to keep Vivian from hearing me across the hall. I clench my thighs around my hand, riding the waves as I pretend it’s his fingers carrying me through it, and when it’s over, I feel that wave of shame again.
It was a mistake. It has to have been a mistake. I'm just confused. Overwhelmed by the stress of graduate school, by the pressure from my father and Thad's expectations. Romeo is attractive and attentive, and he makes me feel things I've never felt before, but that doesn't mean anything. It's just physical. Just chemistry. Just?—
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it automatically, then freeze when I see Romeo's name.
Romeo:Are you okay?
I stare at the message, my heart pounding. I should delete it. I should block his number. But I can't stop looking at those three words.
Are you okay?
When has Thad ever asked me that? When has he ever checked in to see how I'm feeling, what I need, whether I'm alright?
I put the phone face down on the nightstand without responding.
