“Really, Waverly?” His voice makes the room spin and my body a few degrees warmer.
I turn to face him, lifting my brows. “Can I help you?”
He charges into the small confines of the laundry room, shutting the door behind him and invading my space like he owns it. His eyes are dark, darker than before, and his brows are arched. He licks his soft lips, the ones I’ve thought about more times than I would ever admit, and leans into me.
“You can’t just say what you said last night and then run away.” His voice is low, throaty, almost. “Every confession has a consequence.”
“I know.” I try to speak, but my words come out thin and breathless.
“What did you think about when you thought about me?” His voice is a command, and I am trained to obey. He steps closer, his hand lifts to a space just under my jaw. I press my lips together in response to his touch, ensuring my words never see the light of day.
Everything about this is wrong.
And yet everything about this feels like it has the potential to be amazing.
“Why are you shaking?” His eyes crease. “Are you afraid of me, Waverly?”
Our stares lock. I don’t say a word. I keep my opinions to myself the way I always have and hope he grows bored of me and walks away.
His hand still holds my face, demanding my attention. “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”
My stomach hardens. My legs turn to Jell-O. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He traces my bottom lip with his thumb and I release a harbored breath. My lips have never been kissed. Not by another man and not in that way. They’re supposed to be saved for my future husband. My first gift to him on our wedding day, followed by the rest of me on our wedding night…
“You’re not my sister,” he says with a huff.
“I am,” I say. He doesn’t understand how sealing works. I can’t fault him for that. I can only teach him. “I am your sister.”
My heart thrums hard against my chest. Blood whooshes in my ears. Jensen still cups my face and his eyes refuse to release mine.
“What do you want from me?” My voice is a hair below audible, but he hears me loud and clear.
His lips turn up halfway, giving a small glimpse of his perfect white teeth. “I told you before. I want to save you.”
“And I told you, I don’t need to be saved.” If anything, I need to be protected from temptation—from him.
“I want to teach you about choices.”
I scrunch my face. “What about choices?”
“Just that you have them.”
“I know that.” I’m not following.
“You don’t. You have no control over anything. You have the illusion of it, and that could be very dangerous for you.” His hand leaves my chin and traces down my neck. My breath suspends. “Your body. Your heart. Your soul. Those things all belong to you.”
“Obviously.”
“But you’re trained to believe you can only use them a certain way. You’re told you can only give them away when the time is right, and that you have no choice as to when that is. You’re forced to wait until someone else thinks you’re ready.” Jensen’s voice vibrates through his solid chest and into the tight space between us.
“Get over yourself,” I spit. “You don’t know me. You don’t know our family. You think you have everyone pegged. You go around saying whatever you want. You can’t just do that.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want to, kid.” His hand slides down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “You know why? Because I have choices. I have control.”
His words wash over me, sinking into my bones and wrapping around my heart. The deepest part of me know his words to be true, but acknowledging them could be very dangerous, especially in this house.
“I can think of something you don’t have control over.” I fold my arms and pull my shoulders tight.
“What’s that?”
“Me.”
My words are a challenge—a dare, perhaps. I’m playing with fire, and I’m two seconds from being burned, but I don’t care. My body braces itself, fully expecting him to declare I’m wrong—to take my lips and to slide his hands all over my body in places no one else has ever been. My mind would fight it like hell, but my body would surrender. And maybe then it wouldn’t entirely be my fault, not if he forces himself on me.
Only he does none of that.
“You’re right, Waverly. I don’t have any control over you.”
My jaw slackens. He’s screwing with me. Playing mind games. I’m not sure what his end goal is, but I’m not going to keep feeding into it, and I’m certainly not going to stick around to find out.
“I’m leaving.” I pull away from him and push past, our shoulders grazing as I make a beeline for the door.
But he grabs the crook of my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. He forces me against the wall and invades my space all over again. Without warning he leans down, his lips nearly brushing mine. I receive their warmth but not their pressure. We’re separated by no more than a single, dangerous millimeter.
“If you want me, Waverly—and I kind of think you do,” he whispers, “—you can have me. The choice is yours. You get to decide.”
A long, slow breath drags past my lips. I’d close my eyes, but I’m hypnotized by the intensity of his champagne stare.