I tighten my legs and pull him so close that I can feel his length even with the flimsy clothing between us.
Feylin. Is. Huge. And I want him. There’s no time to question my actions, no time to think about the fact that I hated him a moment ago, and yesterday, and will probably hate him tomorrow.
My fingers slip down his abs and curl into his waistband. All I have to do is get those suckers off and?—
A crash erupts from the hallway. We each jump back and stare at one another.
Feylin’s chest is heaving. Mine is, too. My heart’s racing as I stare into his eyes. He blinks as if surfacing from a spell.
That’s how I feel, too. My cheeks are on fire. I’m going to pretend it’s from shame and not passion, because this is wrong.Allwrong. Flirting with Feylin earlier was one thing, but this isn’t real. Our relationship is fake, and I need to remember that. Because whenever I get involved with someone, it all winds up crashing and burning to the ground.
Just like the tree did today.
He rips his gaze from mine and rubs a hand up the back of his head. When he glances at me again, his jaw tightens. Mine does, too. The veil that had cloaked our anger is gone, and our true selves have returned.
I slide off the desk, barely noticing the mess of pens and papers strewn across the floor. He doesn’t say a word as I grab my robe from the rug.
Relief washes over me as I head out the door. This is the right thing. Whatever that sound was, it saved me frommaking a terrible mistake. I pass a stack of books that had been sitting on a table but are now scattered on the floor. That’s what made the crash.
I glance around, but everything’s still. If we were both in the office, what could have caused the books to fall?
19
The next morning every inch of my body’s stiff. I stretch my arms and groan at the twinge of pain that shoots up my neck from the kink knotting it up.
“And how are you this morning?” Elmore asks from his spot on the table.
He flashes his shit-eating grin before pumping his brows as if he knows what happened last night.
Which he does not.
“Feeling like I want to leave.”
I blink and push the dresses off me. After hobbling up to my feet, I start putting them away.
Elmore rubs his chin with a flourish, which is how he does everything. “But you’re living in all this luxury. It’s a shame you can’t sleep on the bed, however.”
“Yeah, a shame,” I mutter.
His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Where’d you go last night? You came back angry, kicked some clothes.”
Flashbacks from my office encounter with Feylin flare bright and hot in my head. Just thinking about his electric touches sends a pulse of pressure between my legs.
I hate him so much.
“I went to look for milk but couldn’t find the kitchen. Nothing important happened.”
Besides, nothingcanhappen. I’m obviously rebounding from Edward. I’m sad and needy, and the joining magic’s screwing with my head. So what if Feylin was nice earlier in the day? It’s all an act, I remind myself. Our entire relationship’s fake, and I need to remember that. It’s not genuine because nothing genuine ever happens to me.
It’s like my aunt Ovie’s relationship with Charlie. It’s not real, but she won’t admit that to herself. At least one of us has accepted reality.
“It’s going to be a hard day,” Elmore reminds me.
“I know. I’m about to get ready.”
I grab the black funeral dress my family left for me, along with a dozen other dresses they dropped off yesterday when they came to the debunked ceremony. I’d rather wear the nice clothes in the wardrobe, but witch funeral and engagement protocols demand certain garment styles must be worn at certain times.
Once I’m in the bathroom, I peel off the satin nightgown while hot water steams up the room.
