17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Delilah
W e were going to kiss.
We were going to kiss, after days of spiraling about my too-rapidly blossoming feelings for this man, and I know it in my bones–it would have been incredible. The life-altering, earth-shattering kind of first kiss that doesn’t happen twice in a lifetime.
It feels like a second ago that I was stumbling–literally–into him, and it feels like an eternity since our lips were about to meet beneath the wisteria. It’s like nothing has been the same ever since Cedric has stepped foot in town, but I know that’s what my romantic heart is telling me. Nothing has changed, not really. I’m still a werewolf, for one; still this blood-thirsty creature I have little to no control over. Still dangerous .
And he will never know.
“You know what I was thinking?” Cedric prompts.
“What were you thinking?”
He narrows his eyes as we near the port and takes in the ever-stretching horizon. “One could quickly get used to all this.”
My heart strains against my ribcage, and I entwine my fingers as not to fidget.
“What do you mean?” I ask, foolish hope and stomach-knotting worry fighting to get hold of me.
“This place. The food, the view… the people.” He shrugs, then turns to me as we continue to walk unhurriedly, offering a look that is all molten dark chocolate and promises I don’t know that I want him to keep. He clicks his tongue, eyes still on me when he adds, “Well, one person.”
My mouth quivers with a smile. I have the distinct feeling that this is the closest thing to tenderness he’s willing to offer so freely. I selfishly ache for every last tendril of sweetness I can coax out of him.
But most of all, this undoubtedly means he likes me–maybe as much as I like him. Because I do, don’t I? I don’t simply think he’s attractive, which is ridiculously obvious for anyone to see. I like his single-minded focus. How kindly and considerately he acts, how unexpectedly and yet infallibly he makes me laugh. I even like his frowns and downturned lips, though I like it even more when I can almost see a smile. I realize I’ve barely heard him laugh, and my skin tingles pleasantly at the mere prospect.
It’s scary and enormous, but it’s also thrilling. Because the truth is, when I’m with Cedric, I feel more like myself than I have in a very, very long time .
Cedric
Delilah smiles so brightly as she pulls me toward the pier, the sun might as well take a leave of absence.
We’re both nearly breathless from the walk now, the breeze moves my hair, and god, I have never felt lighter. Not once, not ever.
I drag my eyes off Delilah long enough to take in the view. The sky is on fire, orange and peach and streaks of pink criss-crossing the yellow-bright clouds. It bathes the small boats moored at the pier, the buzzing of insects nearly imperceptible. There’s no one here except us, and when Delilah sighs happily, I turn to look at her.
The sky might be beautiful, but this girl. One look at her, hazel eyes full of wonder, and I know–I feel –letting her go is one of the most difficult things I will ever have to do.
But we have right now, and it will have to be enough.
“Come on,” she says, starting toward one of the boats. She kneels, unknotting the thick ropes that are keeping it moored.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going for a tour,” she shrugs.
“We are?”
“Yep!”
“Are you familiar with boats?”
“I’ve done it dozens of times. Alec told me I can use one of his boats whenever I like.”
“Alec?”
“Over there,” she adds, tipping her chin to the side. I follow the direction, and sure enough, napping in a chair perched against a small, blue-painted, wooden cabin, a sixty-something man is about to pour the contents of his mug either on the ground or his lap .
“Great,” I breathe.
“Come,” she says again, holding out one hand. I take it as if hypnotized, and Delilah helps me step onto the wiggling boat.
“For someone who wears boat shoes so much, you’re not very steady on an actual boat,” she says with a cheeky smile.
“ Loafers , and sure, make fun of the foreigner. I have other talents.”
“I’m sure you do,” she says quietly, though her cheeks darken when I shoot her a look.
She joins me on the ramshackle vehicle, then gestures for me to take one of the two oars.
“Circular movements,” she says as she starts jostling her oar with impressive strength. “It’ll get easier with time.”
“If you say so,” I huff, mimicking her motions, though something tells me I’m failing spectacularly. Except for the first time, perhaps ever, I feel like it might be alright for me to fail at all.
“Is there anything you’re not proficient at?” I ask as we slowly get further from the pier. “Besides standing still, that is.”
Delilah laughs, the sound bright and stirring something warm in my chest.
“I can’t clean fish,” she shrugs pleasantly. She seems to consider it some more, and then her eyes go wide when she says, “I can’t sing! Can you?”
“Uh,” I mutter dumbly.
“You can, can’t you!” She says, not really a question. “Will you–”
“No, not going to happen.”
“Pleeeeease?” she asks, eyelashes fluttering, head cocked like her dog’s, easily destroying my precarious defenses .
I let my head fall without taking my hands off the oar. “Fine.”
She looks at me zealously, leaning forward. I raise an eyebrow.
“Well?” she asks, practically bouncing off her narrow seat.
“I didn’t say I would do it now,” I say simply.
“That’s all I’m going to be thinking about now,” she pouts.
Feeling bold, I lean in, once again shortening the distance between us. “Perhaps I could put some other thoughts in your mind.”
Delilah swallows, though she looks far from intimidated. She’s luminous, eyes swirling with something eager.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I think you could.”
That’s all I bloody needed. She leans in, too, her sweet perfume invading my senses. This time I’ll kiss her, and I’ll make it the best kiss she’s ever had.
Delilah places her hand on my knee, and as we get closer and her hand slowly travels up, I can feel my cock already straining against my pants. A low groan crawls up my throat, and though I want to ravage her in every possible way, I’m forcing myself to be patient. Let her take over.
When our lips are an inch away from meeting, Delilah opens her mouth as if to say something, but her eyes briefly dart somewhere below us, widening in alarm. Before I can ask her what’s wrong, I feel a painful pressure where her hand is. I move to look down, but Delilah yelps and stands up abruptly. I don’t have time to realize what’s happening as the small boat tilts and capsizes, and water closes over our heads. I could swear something dark appears in my vision, a stark contrast against Delilah’s pink sundress, but when I blink it’s gone, and Delilah is floating right in front of me. Though my ears are ringing faintly and I’m about to come up for air, Delilah takes my face in her hands, a few bubbles slipping out of her lips.
And then she presses her lips to mine, and my eyes flutter close.