Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 59827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Yes, Evianne.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “Prove it.”
He leans closer, and the moment his lips brush mine—
Oh.
So that’s what he means.
His lips are now moving against mine with a tenderness that makes my chest ache, and I’m melting into him, relief flooding through me because he understands, he forgives me, he—
But then I remember.
I need to prove I mean it. Need to show him this isn’t just me running back because I’m scared of being alone.
And so...
I press up on my toes and kiss him back, and it honestly feels like standing at the edge of that frozen lake all over again. That same breathless terror, that same leap of faith.
My hands find his chest, pressing against the solid warmth of him, feeling his heartbeat under my palms, fast, so fast, as fast as mine, and that gives me courage somehow, knowing he’s affected too, knowing I’m not alone in this terrifying vulnerability.
I deepen the kiss.
It’s clumsy at first. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’ve only ever kissed Joseph, and he always made me feel like I was doing it wrong. But Veil makes this sound in the back of his throat, this low groan that sends heat rushing through my entire body, and I think maybe, maybe I’m doing it right this time.
Maybe with him it’s different.
Maybe with him I’m enough.
My fingers curl into his shirt, holding on, and I’m trying to tell him everything I can’t say out loud. I choose you. I’m choosing you. I’m terrified but I’m choosing you anyway because you’re worth being brave for.
He’s kissing me back now. Hard. Hungry. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back, and I gasp because I’ve never been kissed like this, never felt so wanted, and we’re pressed together in his study with the door closed and nothing between us except everything we haven’t said.
I love him.
I love him and I’m showing him with this kiss, with my hands trembling against his chest.
Please see me.
Please understand what this means.
Please know I’m giving you everything I have.
His grip tightens in my hair, and his other hand spans my waist, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in him, drowning in him, finally, finally letting myself feel—
He pushes me away.
Abruptly.
Hard enough that I stumble.
“Enough.”
His voice is ice. Pure, cutting ice.
I stare at him, confused, my lips still tingling from his kiss, my heart still racing, and—
“I thought you were worth the wait, but I think not.”
W-What is he saying?
“I only pretended to want you so I could take your virginity.”
No no no.
I feel myself go pale, feel the blood drain from my face, and it’s like I’m six years old again listening to Joseph tell me I was boring, or seventeen listening to another boy tell me I was a tease for not giving him what he wanted, or twenty-three listening to Joseph weaponize my choice to wait, make me feel dirty for saving myself, make me feel like—
Like there’s something wrong with me.
“But that kiss...is overrated.”
Overrated?
“And in case you need it spelled out, you’re fired.”
Tears stream down my face, but I can’t wipe them away, can’t move, can’t do anything except stand there and take it.
“Now get out.”
I thought saving myself was the right thing to do.
Mom always said it was a choice I should make for myself, not because someone told me to but because I wanted to wait for someone who’d cherish it, cherish me, make it special instead of just another thing to check off a list.
But why does it keep being the reason people hurt me?
Why do men keep using it against me like it’s a weapon?
Somehow I make my legs work.
Somehow I turn toward the door.
I don’t know what to do, God.
Help me.
Please.
I somehow make my limbs work and manage to get out of his study, just like he asked. But as the door closes behind me, I hear a sound like something breaking.
Like glass hitting a wall.
Like he threw something.
Like he’s just as destroyed as I am.
But that can’t be right.
Can it?
Chapter Ten
VEIL STOOD IN HIS STUDY, staring at the shattered glass on the floor, the whiskey tumbler he’d thrown the moment she left, and tried to convince himself he’d done the right thing.
The crystal had exploded against the far wall. Whiskey was soaking into the antique rug. Expensive damage.
He didn’t care.
Her face.
He couldn’t stop seeing her face.
The way she’d paled when he said that thing about her virginity, the way her eyes had gone dead, like he’d killed something vital inside her. And the kiss. The way she’d kissed him like she was handing him everything she had, trembling and clumsy and brave, and he’d let her, let her pour her heart into it, and then—
But that kiss...is overrated.
He’d said that. He’d actually said that to her face.