Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,58
his bed.
“What is this place?” I turned to face him, the heels still dangling from my hand.
“It’s my piece of the house.” He was standing there, watching me as I took it in. Waiting for me to say something, as if my opinion mattered.
“It’s lovely,” I said finally, smiling when I looked back at him, and then, he smiled. “You have a beautiful smile, you know?”
“Do I?” He smiled wider. I forced myself to turn away from him.
“Why are you showing this to me?” I walked up to the window, surprised I didn’t have to hunch over in order to stand there.
It was pretty tall considering. River walked up behind me, setting a hand over my hip. I tried to fight the electricity his touch passed through me, but it was no use. Instead of pulling away, I melted into him, my exposed back against the buttons of his button-down. I closed my eyes momentarily, just enjoying this moment, as if we were two lovers who’d known each other for years, who shared common interests, and hadn’t been taught not to trust each other. Up here, none of that mattered.
“None of that matters anywhere.” River’s voice in my head had my eyes snapping open.
There was nowhere for me to pull away, but he must have sensed I needed space, because he let go and took a step back before I turned to face him.
“You . . . ” I searched his face. “Can you read my mind?”
“Sometimes.”
“You said you were human.”
“I am human.” He tilted his head, his voice lowering slightly. “And I feel like we’re running out of time.”
“Out of time for what?”
“Everything.” He sighed heavily. “I want you to know me before you leave.”
“What do you want from me?” My heels fell out of my hands, tumbling onto the wooden floor beneath us.
“I want everything and nothing at all.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want you. It’s that simple. I want you.”
“Why?” I took a step back. “Why do you want me?”
“How could I not?” He let out a laugh.
“You don’t even know me. You say you want me to know you, but you don’t even know me.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.” I frowned.
He moved closer. I didn’t move; despite my wild heart, despite my raging pulse, I stood still. I let him close the distance between us, let him caress the side of my face with his palm, and shut my eyes to relish his touch. My lips parted when his thumb grazed my lower lip. I opened my eyes then, looked into his.
“We’re made of the same essence, little witch.”
“Why do you call me that?” I whispered.
“People call my family witches. They want to cast stones at us, burn our land.” His mouth pulled up slightly. “But you’re the one who’s bewitched me. From the moment I met you all those years ago, I haven’t stopped seeing you, fantasizing about you.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. Some things are inexplicable.” He dropped his hand from my face and looked over my shoulder. I traced his line of sight and saw that the skies were clear.
“How does that happen?” I looked at him. His gaze found mine once more.
“Sometimes everything lines up and the fog just lifts.”
I nodded slowly. I felt those words deep inside me, as if he’d reached in and planted them there, and when he leaned in and kissed me, I molded my lips to his, my tongue to his movements, let him breathe into my lungs. His hands were slow, soft, as he undressed me, his mouth following every place his hands touched. His tongue was hot against my skin, on my collarbone, over my chest, on my breast. I gasped when his tongue flicked my nipple, my hands fighting to take off his jacket. He pulled back from me and undressed, shrugging the jacket off first, ripping off the tie, then working on each button of his button-down and pants. My dress met the same fate as my shoes and the only thing left was the thin thong I wore. I left it on just as he’d left on his black boxer briefs.
“You look like an underwear model.”
“I’d say the same about you, but you’re not wearing much.” He smiled. God. That smile.
“You should be a sin.”
“Maybe I am.” He took a step forward, bringing both hands to either side of my face. “Would you pray against me?”
I shook my head. “I don’t pray much.”
“Hm. A sinner then.”
“Maybe.” I tilted my chin a little higher, asking, begging,