Page 57 of Serenade Me

Chapter Twenty

Marius

“Anca,” I try to say. It comes out muffled between the frenzied movement of our lips against each other.

I don’t even know why I’m saying her name. It’s not because I want her to stop. It’s not because I want to stop, I don’t think I could if I had a gun to my head. Maybe it’s to remind myself that it’s her, it’s her that I’m kissing. This tempestuous witch who’s taken over my body and mind since the moment I saw her at the bar just a week ago. From someone I couldn’t pick out of line up, to the reason underlying every single one of my decisions.

I’m kissing her, or she’s kissing me, or we’re in this equally together.

“Marius,” she sighs, and the blood rushes to my head, dizzying me.

She pulls away, her lips even fuller and more luscious than usual from the crushing of my mouth against hers.

She bites it, as if aware that it’s puffed up against the whiteness of her porcelain skin. My hand reaches up to cup her face, and it’s wet. She’s been crying.

Oh my god, you utter fuckhead, she’s been crying and you’re taking advantage of her?

“Shit!” I curse myself and pull my hand away, rubbing my temple with my other hand.

Her eyes instantly narrow slightly, there’s a furrow of her brow. “What?”

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… no.”

“No, what?”

“No, we can’t be doing this?”

“Why not?’

“Because YOU… you’re upset, and I… ugh, when you kissed me, I just couldn’t stop.”

“You weren’t… aren’t supposed to stop.”

“Then why did you pull away?”

“Because I still need to breathe,” she says, and there’s a tone of defiance in her voice.

“I think we both need to breathe,” I tell her, getting up on my feet, pacing back and forth in front of her.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me. I try to ignore her eyes on me, knowing if I look at her, all logic, all reason leaves me.

Finally, I turn back to her. She’s still on her knees, her hands on her lap, looking up at me. Her eyes are still glistening, wide, bright, her pupils open, and her lips haven’t lost their plumpness. And all I want to do is take her in my arms and make love to her. All that vulnerability, all that longingness, I want to dive in and bathe in it. And I want her to bathe in my want and yearning for her.

“Anca,” I sink back onto the ground in front of her, taking her hands in mine, “what are we doing?”

She shakes her head, as if ruminating over the stupidity of my question. Then she stops, and looks at me, pupil to pupil, as if nothing exists but us.

“We’re living, Marius,” she says. “You said it, now or never.”

Now.

***

The train ride and walk back to the hotel is done in silence.

Her hand never leaves mine and my eyes never leave hers.

Everything that needs to be said before we do this, is being said without words.