Page 31 of Worth the Try
He shakes his head, his gaze still firmly on mine, unlacing every rope I’ve ever lashed across my life. Ropes I didn’t even know were there. Restraints he’s plucking off, one by one, by simply listening.
I can’t remember the last time I held someone’s attention so thoroughly. Not like this. Mom would inspect me before a pageant, but this kind of intense review, as though he’s seeing deep below the surface and is reading the neon signs that blare. Never. I have never had this. Not even Jeremy gave me this kind of undivided study. It’s intoxicating, and it’s impossible to fight the feeling of lightheadedness it brings. Because it’s not the drink. Not even close.
Ansel waits. Like he’s content to listen to the cicadas and frogs while I find the courage to say the words that are clawing their way up my throat.
I swallow. I could stop all of this. Stand up, tell him thanks for the drink, and then take my nice little self to the nice little guesthouse for a nice little sleep.
But I don’t want to do that anymore.
So I take the metaphorical leap. “I realized that I’m tired of being nice.”
He nods, a subtle dip of his chin that encourages me to keep going.
“Like tonight.” I wave my hand around. “I went out with my friends, and when I came back, you were here. The nice girl in me—the girl I’ve been my entire life—she says it’s because youjust want to be sure I got home safe. That yournannygot home.” I swallow and glance away from him, needing a break from the intensity of his gaze.
Still, he says nothing, one hand loosely steadying his drink on his thick thigh while his other arm lies across the back of the couch. Dark hair covers his forearm. There’s even some on his wrist. And if I tipped my head just right, I could know what it’s like to have his palm on my cheek. Would I feel another burst of electricity like I felt when our fingers touched?
Do Iwantthat?
Yes.
God, yes. So much yes.
I shift, trying and failing to relieve the pressure building between my legs.
Ansel’s gaze lowers, and I swear he’s looking right…there.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I continue, “But the other part of me thinks that maybe you waited for a—a different reason.”
His lashes lift, his gaze searing into mine once again, and my heart pounds so hard that I can scarcely believe it’s not beating right out of my ribcage like an old cartoon.
If this is what it feels like to be brave, I don’t know if I can survive it.
Ansel’s beautiful dark eyes roam over my face, seeming to catalog each part to tuck away and study later. His jaw clenches, barely noticeable in the dim light beneath the beard, but I see it all the same.
I shiver, unable to control my reaction to his attention.
“Elodie.” His voice is low, so low that I have to strain to hear it over the sound of my pulse roaring in my ears.
I wait. It’s my turn to let him have the space to talk. I take another breath, forcing myself to do it slowly, but it’s hard to be quiet when it feels like I’ve sprinted up ten flights of stairs. If I could even make it up that many. Twin bursts of adrenaline andpanic flood my system, but underneath it all is this wild sense of need I’ve never felt in my life.
I blame that part—the needy part—for the way I’m behaving.
Nice Elodie would definitely not be in this situation.
Nice Elodie wouldn’t have stopped at the sound of Ansel’s voice in the first place.
In the famous words of Taylor Swift:I’m sorry, the old Elodie can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Cause she’s dead!
“Elodie,” he repeats. Only this time, it sounds like he’s asking a question.
He lifts his arm off the top of the couch, and the very fingers I’d studied are hovering beside my face, as though he isn’t quite sure.
I don’t know who moves first, but one moment his hand isn’t touching me, and in the next, it is. The pads of his fingers, rough and calloused, trace along my hairline, down my temple, and over the shell of my ear. Goosebumps fly across my body, betraying me once again, and Ansel palms my cheek in response.
He shifts closer, bringing his body so close to mine that I swear I feel the heat coming off him.
I breathe even faster. Is he going to…?
