SHE (Book #1)

Chapter 25

***Malachi**

I feel the warmth of her body leave mine.
I keep my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. pretending that she isn't leaving again.
I want to know when I became so soft for a girl who keeps hurting in unimaginable ways. Because that must say something about my character.

I feel her hand move my hair out of my face.
I feel a light blow of air on my face, catching me by surprise.

"I know you're awake," she whispers.

I open my eyes, her face right in front of mine. It's still dark outside.

"How did you know?" I ask her.

She shrugs, "You're eyes fluttered when I blew on them. If you were really asleep, they wouldn't react," her fingers trace my shoulder, down my arm, "Your breathing became uneven a couple of minutes ago. I knew you were awake,"

You know, if I wasn't head over heels for her, that would sound so creepy. How is she so mechanical? Everything is carefully learned and factual with her, but she doesn't realize she admitted that she pays attention to me, pays attention to the slightest detail.

I roll onto my back and stretch.
I have consumed enough alcohol to give me a month's worth of hangover. It's all her fault. I was doing so well sobriety and becoming more stable, then her crazy ass comes in and ruins it all. I turn to look at her.

"Were you about to leave?"
She nods, sitting up and stretching.

"I have to go back before everyone wakes up," she replies.

I look at my phone, it's almost two in the morning. I replay what she just said. She has to get home before everyone wakes up. I remember last time she told me she had a curfew to keep, and I am guessing it is way past it.

She hops off the bed and begins to make her way around the room. I quickly get up and stop her.
She blinks at me, waiting for what I have to say or why I am in her way.

"Did you sneak out to see me?" I ask her, "Were you that worried that you broke curfew for me, while your grandfather was home?"

"Stop. Stop making it sound like I am doing it for your benefit, jeez," she rubs her eyes, clearly irritated.

"So you felt guilty. That's why you came," she looks at the wall, the ceiling, the door behind me, everywhere except for me.

Silence falls onto us.
I want to reach out to her.
This might be the last time she allowed herself to let her guard down. the last time she wants to see me in this light. the last time she will ever feel any sort of thing for me.

"Tempest. If you're going to leave without saying or answering anything, please," I grab cup her face, "please never come back. ever."

She wasn't expecting it. I can tell by the way her eyes slightly widen, and her lips part. The way her eyes stare, unblinking. She still says nothing, waiting on words to simply come out of her mouth.

"Say something, angel" I beg, resting my forehead on hers, "Just say it. Let me hear you confess, tell me you thought about me too, tell me you feel something, even the slightest feeling is valid. Please, just give me closure,"

I feel her brush her lips against mine, and I feel the life get sucked out of me.
I know all she thinks of me... 'the man who warmed her seat'. That was pretty witty of her to say, honestly. I know her. I know where her mind is right now. She is trying to figure out how this will affect her. How her future will be affected if she admits it all. if our possibilities become realities. I feel like we are overcomplicating everything.
She feels we are under-complicating everything.

"I can't," she finally says, "I don't think-"

"Stop thinking," I am getting irritated, I am getting annoyed by these sick games, "Just feel. feel. you don't need to think to feel, how do you feel,"

"I feel... I feel... comforted," she says, "I feel wanted. I feel alive. but every responsibility we both hold keeps getting in the way-"

I stop her words with my lips but pull away quickly realizing how disrespectful that may seem. I can't force myself on her. She isn't someone to be trifled with.

But she takes a fist full of my shirt and puts my lips back on hers.
Freedom.
I feel free.

I enfold her in my arms, and as does she.
My hands routinely find the hem of her shirt. I struggle. I struggle deeply because all I want to do is touch her, blamelessly, innocently. But I can't.

She must have noticed the tension I have created with myself, but she slides my hand under her shirt up to her waist. She is burning hot as my hand travels up her smooth back and pulls her closer to her.

For the first time, touching someone else is not enough.
I pull away from her for a second, her scent abandons me for a second.
I pull my shirt over my head.

"W-what are-" I see the nerves in her eyes.

I shake my head, "It's nothing like that,"

I grab her hands and place them on my chest. And I almost fall to the ground. Her touch is a different meaning within itself. It's all I ever needed my whole life. to feel the touch of someone I have immense feelings for. It's comforting.

She places a kiss where her hand touches.
And I think I can stay like this for days on end.
I don't want to think about what happens next, what happens after her inevitable departure. God help me.

Her lips are against my ears, "The best things can only be temporary... like us,"

As long as I have her in my arms for even a second of the day, temporary means nothing to me. She can have all of me.
And the control I am desperately reaching for.
Only for one second of her affection.

"We must focus on the real prize, Malachi," she starts again, she holds me tightly as I run my hands up and down her back, "Enemies out front, but in our space and time, we are... what are we?"

"We have no label. Just two potential lovers held back by their demons in their minds," I tell her. Truthfully, we are too young. far too young to be certain about anything. Which makes it even scarier. If we were both of appropriate age, no one can stop us. This is all too unexpected to build a firm foundation from.

"Then let's be just that. Potential lovers, but only when we are alone, out of sight. I still want my title, and I know you must too. Focus on the real prize, but enjoy each other's company, as horrendous and unhealthy as it sounds," I can feel her heart beating. It's absolutely adorable.

"All is fair in love and war," I quote.

"All is fair in love and war," she repeats.

And I think,

what do we know about love? How much do we know to identify it?
Because for just a split second, my heart tells me I love her.
But we are young and reckless. Love is something bigger than that I hope.

She has to choose between me and fortune.
I have to choose between her and my hatred for my father.

In between, I do not believe love can exist.

*******