The Wild Heir(61)

“And now you know I was chilling in a bar with a bunch of old people. And I was talking about you.”

“You were?” In the faint moonlight, her eyes seem to glow. I can hardly look away.

“Ella…” I start, then take in a deep breath. I grab her hands and keep her right against me. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve always had trouble focusing on the right things. I’ve had a hard time trying to pay attention to things in life that most people do. I’ve struggled to make sense of the way I see the world. But…when I see you, you’re all I see.” I stare down at her lips. “I know that doesn’t sound like much, but to me, it means everything. You’re starting to mean everything to me.”

Her lips part as she tries to process what I’ve said. I’m not being funny, I’m not being a jackass, I’m just being truthful. She’s showing me parts of her, I’m showing her parts of me.

“Question time,” I softly sing, sliding one of my hands to her lower back, my fingers pressing against her sweater.

She doesn’t flinch. I take this as a win.

“Now?” she asks.

I only smile. “All we have is now.”

She thinks that over for a moment, rubbing her lips together. “Isn’t that a song?”

“A really fucking weird one, yes.”

I smile and lean in a few inches. “So, my question is, Ella…if I kissed you, would you kiss me back?”

She moves her head just enough to look at me. Her eyes are searching mine, maybe to feel out my sincerity, maybe to see if she wants to. She swallows.

“No,” she says.

A slow grin spreads across my face.

“Liar.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. Fear washes over her gaze. Because she knows she’s lying, she knows I’m onto her.

And she knows I’ll prove it.

“I’m not lying, Magnus. I…” she says, trailing off as she puts her hands up against my chest, ready to push me away.

But I’m tired of the push and pull.

I just want to pull her into me and into me and into me.

I want her to push everything else away, the way it happens for me when I’m around her, the way the world and the noise disappears except for her.

“You’re a liar,” I murmur again.

Then I lean in.

And I kiss her.

Her lips are soft, softer than I even imagined, and the tiniest bit wet. In the cold mountain air, they feel hot against mine, like two flames that have coiled together, and I’m suddenly struck by the immediacy of the moment, like for once I’m actually living all there is to live.

She tenses up under my kiss, under my hold on her, and I know she wants to prove something to me, that she doesn’t want to kiss me back. But I don’t know why.

I’m a damn good kisser.

But for as long as I can press my lips against hers, she won’t yield.

And as much as I wish I was right, I won’t make her.

I start to pull back in defeat but then her lips open against mine and her hand slips up to my cheek and her mouth and mine are flush.

I’m fucked. I’m totally fucked.

One kiss and it feels like my world is being cracked open.

Suddenly all I am is this desperate, trembling kind of hunger, the one that so often gets carried away. I’m hard as stone and pushing against her hip, and now my hands are going to her hair, disappearing into the silky strands that glow under the moonlight.

“Fuck,” I murmur against her mouth, breathless as her tongue slides against the tip of mine. I feel like a fucking teenager again, about to bust a nut in my pants from just a simple kiss.

But no, this isn’t a simple kiss. This is anything but simple. This is the kiss that might open the door to the most complicated relationship in history.

She moans something softly and that just about undoes me, like she’s about to pull that one thread that will unravel me at the seams. Our kiss deepens, our lips finding their rhythm against each other, our kiss becoming as easy and passionate as our banter is.

I should have kissed her on day one.

All this time I could have had this sweet, warm, wet tongue writhing against mine and now, now it might be too late.

She pulls away slightly, breathing hard, and I can feel the pulse along her throat as my hand glides back to the base of her neck. It’s beating a mile a minute and her skin is hot. I know her cheeks are pink. “Magnus,” she whispers, swallowing hard, her gaze slowly trailing up from my lips to my eyes.

“I’m here,” I whisper hoarsely. “I’ve been here all this time.”

“I guess I’m a liar,” she says, managing a smile that’s both shy and wicked, like she’s ashamed of what she did and yet is reveling in it.

Wanting more.

“I don’t mind those kind of lies,” I tell her, running my fingers through her hair. “So long as you don’t mind when I seek out the truth.”

I lean in again, but she puts her hand on my chest.

The push part of the push pull.

“We should probably go back inside,” she says quietly, trying to seem crisp and composed. “You know, before they think we’ve been eaten by a bear. Or fallen in the outhouse.”

“Or off a cliff. But I can promise you, they aren’t thinking that.” She rubs her lips together, about to protest, and I grab her hand. “Come on. I’m not letting go this time.”