Page 35 of These Tears

That stops me cold.

George’s eyes shift to me, sobering – but far from apologetic.

A reckless heat lashes through me and snaps me upright.

I turn on my heel. Elias’ eyes climb from my feet to my face as I march back towards him.

They barely have time to widen before I invade the space between his thighs.

I press my mouth to his. One hand cradles his cheek, thumb below his chin – where it shouldn’t matter that his pulse is thudding frantically.

His mouth parts in surprise.

In the first heartbeat, he gives me nothing.

In the second, the walls crumble inside him.

His hand closes gently around my hip – barely there.

I don’t make it soft. I’m not even sure I’m aware of what I’m doing. I only feel the raw friction of breath and lips colliding, as if I could bruise the silence between us into submission.

His mouth turns hungry beneath mine, and when our tongues meet, the kiss stops belonging entirely to me.

A gruff sound catches somewhere low in his throat, reminding me what lies beneath the composure – what I was stupid enough to wake.

Everything falls away – concrete, guards, cake, guilt, truths, fucking candles.

His fingers tighten once against my jeans.

My skin pebbles. My mind reels.

‘That’s enough.’ A bark from the doorway cuts through me.

My heart kicks my thoughts into a stumble.

I drag in a gasp and pull away before I shed the last semblance of common sense.

He gazes up at me with hooded eyes, and we feed each other several erratic breaths.

His mouth is kissed red from mine, his hand suspended beside my hip, fingers curling around nothing beside my thigh.

Whatever apology tries to crawl up my throat, I swallow it down.

I’m already backing away, with the taste of him still on my lips.

One step. Another.

His eyes follow every one of them.

No smile. No joke. No accusation.

Just that stare. Like I’ve stolen something.

Or done something extraordinarily stupid.

7

The rapid chatter of my camera shutter drowns out the traffic as a robin pecks at the crumbs behind my lens. I’ve sacrificed half a bun to keep it there, watching it hop about.