Eros: A Game Of Wits (A Mafia Novel)

15. To Hell With Morals

Hey, guys! Yeah, I know... I was supposed to update yesterday but I somehow managed to go back on my schedule.

Oh, well... I'm here now and the chapter is actually long!

Also, if you guys noticed i chaged the book's title to Eros; A Game Of Wits. I was looking for a replacement from the start until i found the perfect one and since i plan to have a sequel... Tell me what you think of the new one!

Things are getting quite hot in this chapter but don't worry, nothing mature.

So without further delays;

...To say she was shocked is an understatement. She was completely dumbfounded. She didn't know what to do, how she should react.

At first, she thought he would move away just after their eyes affixed. Or it would be more accurate if she said that she hoped he would shy away afterwards. She didn't know where she got that idea when he never actually showed signs of diffidence in the first place. He was reserve though; he was speaking with great consideration of every word he used. But it seemed he was far brazen than she had originally thought.

The longer he loomed over her lithe frame, the more unnerved she got.

Then he surprised her...

He started touching her lips with his index, exploring them like a toddler touching his mother's face for the first time. It wasn't necessarily what he was doing that confounded her, it was the way he was handling his moves, how he handled her... She could have been mistaken but it seemed his touch was tender, in an awkward way.

Well... If they were lovers it wouldn't feel so problematic, but their current 'relationship' was not even something to brag about. They were complete strangers. The fact they knew a few things about each other was just the requisite. What she knew about him was probably a small paragraph in a very fat book.

If her brother knew of what she was really doing right now, then he would, without a doubt, flip out.

She didn't perceive how, nor did she understand why, but for a moment, she actually forgot how she was supposed to fumble this sensation.

...Just for a moment and she was staring back at him in curiosity. She couldn't find the will to look away, feeling that she would perish if she did so. Her eyes were glued on his own, focusing on nothing else, trying desperately to find a reason to avert her gaze, but finding none.

Then she remembered that one thing that was keeping her sane. She recalled her resolve.

He was a stranger, no matter how many things they shared and how nicely the two got along, which in a sense, didn't actually apply as a true fact. They weren't at good with each other most of the time they were together and she will never forget how he grabbed her by the throat when he got drunk. She could feel the prickle of his fingertips at her neck as he held her in place. That memory will stain her forever, but what really upset her was that 'dream' of hers.

She knew that, partly, it was her fault for being, somewhat, bipolar towards him. She needed him to know that he shouldn't mistake her kindness for a romantic interest.

She had set her boundaries from the start and she tried to make it clear for him to see. Perhaps those boundaries weren't as obvious as she thought or, perhaps, he wasn't keen to see. She had many reasons to believe he was trying to achieve something. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew he had something on his mind.

She could feel that idea getting stronger after he got drunk. Something had changed and it was something she didn't want to get involved with. It was terrifying.