I lean into it.
The first time he kissed me it was violent and terrified and electric. This is nothing like that. His thumb traces along my cheekbone, the gentleness of it so unexpected that my eyes sting again, and I don't look away from him, and he doesn't look away from me.
"Aoife." Just my name. Not a question. Not a warning. Something else.
"I know," I say.
His phone buzzes from the sitting room.
Neither of us moves. It buzzes again. Then again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
William
MY PHONE BUZZES again from the sitting room.
Neither of us moves.
The lamplight from the hall catches the line of her throat, the slight part of her lips. Her fingers are still light against my jaw from when she turned toward me, and I haven't pulled back. Don't want to. The buzzing stops. Starts again. Stops.
Then silence.
The silence is louder.
"It could be important," she says. But she doesn't move.
Aidan is the only one with this number. Which means it is important. It's always important. But for the first time in longer than I can remember, something else is more important.
"He can wait," I say.
She's watching me with something careful in her expression, something measured. Deciding. Then her hand slides from my jaw to my chest, not pushing me away, just resting there, and I feel it through the fabric like a brand.
I cover her hand with mine. Press it flat against my chest where she can feel my heart going too fast, where she knows exactly what she's doing to me.
Her breath hitches.
I lean in and don't rush it. My mouth finds the corner of her jaw, just below her ear, and I feel her go still. Her fingers curl into my shirt.
"You're going to tell me to stop," I say against her skin.
Her head tilts. Giving me access. "I haven't yet."
I work down her throat, feel her pulse hammering under my lips. Her fingers tighten in my shirt like she needs something to hold onto. When I finally reach her mouth, she kisses me back hard, and that careful, measured look is gone completely.
Not like outside the burning house. Not fury and nowhere else to put it. This is different. She's choosing this. Choosing me.
That's worse. So much worse for me.
I pull her closer, and she shifts against me, pulls me down with her until we're lying facing each other in the near-dark. I pull back just enough to see her face.
"Say it," I tell her. "If you want me to stop."
"I don't want you to stop." Direct. No hesitation. That composure she wears like armour stripped right back.
Something loosens in my chest and tightens everywhere else.
I kiss her again, and this time I don't hold back. My hand moves into her hair, gripping at the base of her neck, pulling her closer.
