Finding Cinderella (Hopeless #2.5)(27)
I move my hand to her cheek. She whimpers and looks like she’s about to collapse onto the bed, so I wrap my other arm around her lower back and pull her against me.
“So yeah . . . three questions first.”
I let go of her and immediately turn around two seconds before I hear her fall onto her bed. I walk straight to the desk chair and take a seat, for two reasons. One, I want her to think I mean business and that everything I just said to her didn’t affect me like it did her. And two, because I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything and my knees were about to give out on me if I didn’t sit down.
“Question number one,” I say, watching her from across her room. She’s lying on her back with her eyes closed and I hate that I’m not watching her up close right now. “When’s your birthday?”
“October . . .”—She clears her throat, obviously still recovering—“thirty-first. Halloween.”
How could the date of a birthday make me fall even harder for her? I have no idea, but it somehow does.
“Question number two. What’s your favorite food?”
“Homemade mashed potatoes.”
Never would have guessed that one. Glad I asked.
“Question number three,” I say. “It’s a big one. Are you ready?”
She nods, but keeps her eyes closed.
“What’s the one thing in this room that tells the biggest secret about you?”
As soon as the question leaves my mouth, she’s completely still. Her exaggerated breaths come to a halt. She remains motionless for almost a whole minute before she slowly pushes herself up until she’s seated on the edge of the bed, facing me. “It has to be something inside this room?”
I nod slowly.
She lifts her hand and touches a finger to her heart, pointing at it. “This,” she whispers. “My biggest secret is right in here.”
Her eyes are moist and sad and somehow with that answer, the air instantly changes between us. In a dangerous way. A terrifying way. Because it feels like her air just became my air and I suddenly want to take in fewer breaths in order to ensure she never runs out.
I stand up and walk to the bed. Her eyes follow me closely until I’m directly in front of her. “Stand up.”
She stands slowly.
I weave both hands through the locks of her hair until I’m holding the back of her head. I stare at her until my heart can’t take anymore, then I press my lips to hers. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve kissed her over the past day. Every time I kiss her, the feeling I get is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The closest I’ve ever come to feeling this way is the day I was pretending to be in love with the girl in the closet. But even that day, the day I thought would surpass every day after it, doesn’t come close to this.
Her mouth is warm and inviting and everything it always is when I kiss her, but it’s also so much more. The fact that I have this reaction to her after one day scares the living shit out of me.
One day.
I’ve been doing this with her for one day and I have no idea what’s happening. I don’t know if it’s a full moon or if I have a tumor wrapped around my heart or if she really is a witch. Whatever it is still doesn’t explain how this kind of thing can exist between two people this ridiculously fast . . . and actually last.
I feel like deep down my heart knows she’s too good to be true. My mind and my whole body know she’s too good to be true, so I kiss her harder, hoping to convince myself that this is real. It’s not some fairy tale. It’s not an hour of make-believe.
This is reality, but even in our imperfect reality, people don’t fall for each other like this. They don’t develop feelings like this for someone they barely know.
The only thing my entire thought process is proving to me right now is how much I need to grab her tight and hang on, because wherever she goes, I want to go, too. And right now, she’s going backward, down onto the bed. I’m easing myself on top of her in the same way I just told her this would happen. And we’re kissing, just like I said we would, only this time it may just be a little more frantic and needy and holy shit.
Her skin.
It really is the softest skin I’ve ever touched.
I move my hand from her waist and inch my fingers underneath the hem of her shirt, then slowly begin to work my way to her stomach.
She pushes my hand away.
“Daniel.”
She immediately lifts up and I immediately lift off her. She’s breathing so heavily I catch myself holding my own breath, scared I’m hogging too much of her air.
She looks both regretful and embarrassed that she suddenly asked me to stop. I lift my hand and stroke her cheek reassuringly.
My eyes scroll over her features, taking in her nervous demeanor. She’s afraid of what might happen between us. I can see on her face and in the way she’s looking at me that she’s just as scared as I am. Whatever this is between us, neither one of us was searching for it. Neither one of us knew it even existed. Neither one of us is even remotely prepared for it, but I know we both want it. She wants this to work with me as much as I want it to work with her and seeing the look in her eyes right now makes me believe that it will. I’ve never believed in anything like I believe in the possibility of the two of us.
I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that if I tried to kiss her again, she’d let me. It’s almost as if she’s torn between the girl she used to be and the girl she is now and she’s afraid if I try to kiss her again, she’ll cave.