Hierarchy of Need [t.r]

Chapter Thirty Two

Well around three in the morning, Delilah and Tom stumbled through the doors of the manor; albeit Tom was much more graceful. Delilah quite literally tripped over his foot and he easily caught her by the arm, sending her a halfhearted glare. "Do you do this on purpose?"

"Why would I do that?"

Her cheeks were still flushed, undoubtedly from their heated kiss, so he wasn't sure if she was teasing him or not. Tom settled for raising a questioning brow.

As they made their way up the many stairs, she came to realize all of her clothes were in Olive's room. Delilah didn't want to wake her, considering she knew how livid the brunette would be. There was also the possibility of Aleksander being in Olive's room, a sight Delilah was positive she didn't want to see.

Slowing to a stop in front of Tom's door, he looked down at her blankly, she clearly wanted to say something.

"Um, I left my things in Olive's room..."

"That appears to be your problem, not mine," he then bowed his head in goodnight and turned his back, Delilah gaping at him as he went into his room and shut the door.

"Asshole," she muttered, her hand absentmindedly reaching up to touch her still tingling lips.

They had kissed. Many times, in fact she was almost positive Tom sensed the desperation in it. Which was a tad embarrassing, but nonetheless he didn't seem to give damn as he also kissed her back full force.

God, what had she just done? She made out with Tom Riddle, she initiated it, she wanted it. What was wrong with her? Tom was- she didn't know of any proper words to summarize the type of person he was. She knew he was anything but good, he's exactly what she didn't need. Especially not now.

Shooting one last glare to his door, Delilah turned on her heel with the full intention of finding one of the many luxurious couches to sleep on when an arm wrapped around her waist. A slight gasp left her lips as Tom suddenly tugged her into his room. Though she couldn't ignore she was at least a tiny bit pleased with this outcome.

His lips were near her ear as her back was pressed into the front of him, his warm breath making her feel oddly cold yet on fire.

"No need to act like a kicked puppy," he mumbled, though in the quiet room it nearly sounded like a shout.

"I hate you," Delilah sighed as she turned in his arms, simply gazing up at him.

"I know."

_________________________________

A rap on the door jostled her awake. At first she was merely annoyed, burying her head into the soft pillow with a groan. However, when she heard a dry chuckle, Delilah shot up into a sitting position. Rubbing the tiredness from her eyes, the blurred vision of Tom sitting at his desk became clear. His shirt was unbuttoned, hair a mess, and he was writing in his diary.

The creak of a door didn't bear her any mind.

"Riddle, have you seen Delilah- oh."

Delilah's eyes locked onto pale green, both too startled to speak.

There was a sigh from Tom and she was grateful for the meek distraction. "Morning, Rosier. Do you need anything else?"

"Uh," Elio forced himself to look away from her. She looked beautiful, he just wished it wasn't in Tom's bed, of all fucking places. "No, sorry. I just- I was looking for Delilah."

"Clearly," setting down his quill, Tom turned and his eyes bore into Elio's. "And now you've found her. Gather everyone in the drawing room in twenty minutes."