Page 82 of Beauty and the Beach
“Say my name,” I whisper.
The room is even darker now; the sun hasn’t set completely, but with the raging storm, most of the light outside has died. Still, when Phoenix’s eyes open again, I see every second of it. I see the subtle shift in his expression as his gaze flares; I see his dark brow lift.
“And why should I do that?” he says, his voice low and silky.
“You know why,” I say, swallowing thickly.
Slowly—so slowly—he pushes his chair back and then stands up. All it takes is one step to the side, and we’re face-to-face. There’s a familiar challenge in his eyes as he looks down at me, one that spikes electricity and adrenaline into my blood.
“You think hearing your name is going to make everything suddenly clear?” he says, leaning down and placing one hand on the desk on either side of me so that I’m caged in. “You think it will answer all the questions you keep asking yourself? It won’t—Holl.” He caresses the name, lets it roll sensually off his tongue, and I shiver.
“I think—” I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I go on, my eyes wide. “I think I might have a crush on you.”
He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving me. “No,” he says slowly. “You and I are well past that stage.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” It’s a half-hearted denial at best.
“I mean that you might find a lot of things with me,” he says, his voice still low, “but a littlecrushwon’t be one of them.”
I can barely find the oxygen in this room, but every inhale brings me the scent of leather and mahogany; his features aren’t crystal clear in the dark, but I can feel his arms on either side of my body, strong and warm.
And he’s magnetic. He pulls me in always but especially now; I lean forward, closer, moving my hands to trail my fingers up his arms.
He shudders at my touch.
“I told you no more unless you were ready for everything that came with it,” he breathes, and I can feel his words against my lips. “I know myself, and I know you. If you kiss me right now, everything will change, and we won’t be able to go back.” He pauses before going on. “We’ll sleep in the same bed. I’ll call yousweetheartinstead ofAmsterdam. We’ll argue when you use my nice razor to shave your legs. And I will love you, Holland, because every single emotion you make me feel is intense. There will be no crushes or infatuations.” He spits those words out like he’s never heard anything so ridiculous. “If you kiss me now…” he says, trailing off as his gaze darts over my face. Then he shakes his head. “If you kiss me now, you’remine.”
Mine.
“What if I don’t want you to call mesweetheart?” I whisper as my arms twine around his neck.
“The name is negotiable,” he murmurs, his hands finding my waist.
“And the razor thing?—”
“If you try to use my razor to shave your legs, wewillargue.”
I exhale, looking at him, my fingers playing absently with his hair. “You really think you would fall in love with me?”
“I thinkwewould fall in love witheach other.”
“From one kiss? Are you insane?” I hesitate. “We’ve kissed before. In this very office, in fact.”
He snorts, a little puff of breath against my jaw as his lips hover. “Tell me you didn’t think about that for days.”
He’s right. And I know the truth; I feel it in my bones. I have loved this man in every waybutromantic. I have made him a part of my life; I’ve made him a part ofme. I’ve given him all of my most overwhelming emotions—my anger, my frustration, my fear.
Negative emotions, but I still gave themto him.He’s the one I trusted not to walk away.
It would be easy, so easy, to fall in love with him. And although I don’t know what that love would look like, I do know that this precipice we’ve been dancing on is sharp and jagged and painful.
Falling for him is scary…but trying not to fall for him has been torture.
So I spread my wings and prepare to jump.
Holland
The storm roars outside;rain pounds a deafening rhythm against the window. But somehow, in spite of all that, the world feels silent. Phoenix’s hands are tight on my waist, his lips centimeters from my own, and the only thing I can really hear is the sound of our breathing.
