“That makes sense. Nothing is ever shallow when it comes to you.”
As he looked into my eyes, I summoned my courage. “Why haven’t you kissed me?”
His eyes widened. “You think I haven’t wanted to kiss you?”
“I don’t know. It seems like you’re intentionally staying away. You haven’t asked me to go anywhere, either. I just thought—”
“You’re right. I’m a bit scared to kiss you again. Because the last time I did, I wasn’t even on this damn Earth anymore. I’d never felt anything like it. That carpark didn’t exist. You told me certain things were off limits, and I don’t trust myself not to take things too far.” He exhaled. “I’ve been walking on eggshells because I don’t want to push you into something you’ll regret.”
The only regret I had at this point was having made him feel that way. “I’m struggling with what I said to you in my room that night—the boundary I set. Sometimes I blurt things I’m worried about before I think them through. It’s like I’m afraid I’ll change my mind, so I make sure I get it out.”
“You’ve changed your mind about what you said?” he asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Sometimes the things that scare me the most are the things I really want.”
He swallowed. “You know what I think, Felicity?”
“What?”
“I think we shouldn’t worry about it so much. Boundaries, no boundaries. I think we need to let life happen and see how it goes.” He reached out his hand. “You with me?”
I took it and smiled, enjoying the warmth of his skin a little too much.
He looked out at the water again. “I’m not gonna promise I won’t hurt you. I think we’ve already established that’s a given. We’re both going to end up hurt. But I promise to make every moment with you matter up until that time.”
I needed to trust him. “Okay.”
“There’s something else I need to say,” he added.
I nodded.
“I know we previously compared what we’re doing together this summer to a losing game. But I want to make something clear. As long as I’m here, as long as we’re together, this is a relationship, not a game, to me. And even if it has to end, it’s no less valuable than if it lasted forever. We have a tendency in life to judge the value of a relationship by how long it lasts. But some of the worst ones are the longest-lasting. A connection between two people is no less valuable if cut short by circumstances.” His eyes glowed in the moonlight. “You already mean so much to me.”
Emotions bubbled up inside me; I’d really needed to hear that.
“I’m so glad you came over tonight,” he said.
“Me too.”
He looked toward the house. “After they eat, I’m certain he’s going to take the Marias upstairs. Maybe it will be safe to go inside then. We can have the living room to ourselves.”
I shrugged. “Either way. I don’t care if they’re there as long as we get to hang out.”
“Hanging out with you is becoming one of my favorite things,” he said.
His admission made me feel guilty. Something I’d done last night before bed started to weigh on me. “I have a confession, Leo, and I don’t know if you’re gonna like it.”
His body went rigid. “All right.”
“Remember how you said you Googled me once?”
“Yeah?” He gulped.
“Well, I did the same to you. It started because I wanted to learn about the peerage system and the world you come from without having to ask you a million questions. That unfortunately led to other internet searching.”
His expression fell. “Find anything interesting?”
“Lots, actually,” I said.
“I’m sure.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, looking frustrated. “It sucks that getting to know me has to involve history lessons and research.”
Shit. “You’re upset at me.”
“No. No, of course not. I’m surprised it took you so long, to be honest. It’s just...all of that is not a representation of who I am. Not the history, of course. But the gossip part. It’s lies, mostly. Some paparazzo snapping a photo of me and some girl they think is my future wife, when in fact, we’d probably just met. Or saying I’m buying cocaine when it was weed, which I rarely smoke, but of course they’ll make me out to be a massive drug addict. Basically, it’s rubbish ninety-nine percent of the time. So it’s useless.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you?” He searched my eyes.
“Yes. I do.”
“Well, then, you’re smart. Many people aren’t. They just believe what they read. You’ll never get to know me through some high-society gossip rag.”
I hated that I’d upset him. More than that, I hated that I’d disappointed him.
“Your mother is very beautiful,” I added.
“That she is. Thank you.”
“I can see a lot of her face in yours.”
“Are you saying you think I’m beautiful, then?” He winked. “So, what other things did you dig up?”
I was afraid to ask the next question, but he seemed open to further inquisition.
“Do you have a brother?”
His expression darkened. “Where did you read that?”
“There was this website that listed the family trees of a bunch of landowning, aristocratic families. You know how it is with internet searching—it leads you down one rabbit hole to the next. Anyway, it listed both Leo and Thomas as the children of your parents, Leo and Scarlet. You had said you were an only child, so I was curious.”
He nodded slowly and looked down at his thumbs as he twiddled them. “Thomas is my brother, yes,” he finally said.
“I didn’t know you had—”
“He died in childbirth.”
My heart clenched. “Oh no. Gosh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
“Was he older or younger?”
“Neither. He was my twin.”
My chest felt heavier by the moment.
“There were some complications. Apparently, something can happen where one twin essentially donates blood to the other. It’s called twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. And the recipient can suffer complications. It doesn’t always end badly, but it did in our case. They tried surgery to save him, but he was stillborn. My parents had made the mistake of announcing they were having twins ahead of time, so they couldn’t mourn in private. The press was all over it—the burial and everything.”
I felt absolutely nauseous for having initiated this conversation.
Tears formed in my eyes. “I should have never brought this up.” I reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Leo.”
“It’s okay.” He looped his fingers through mine and squeezed. “It is what it is. I can’t change it.” He was silent for a while. “Can I ask you a personal question, too?”
I nodded.
“Do you have any idea who your father is?”
He must have assumed this was a sore subject for me, but I was pretty numb to the idea of my father. At least that was how I’d trained myself—not to feel anything.
“Not a clue.”
“Have you ever tried to find out?”
I grabbed a water and took a long sip before closing the bottle. “When I was really young, I just believed whatever my mother said. She told me she didn’t know who my father was, and there was no way to figure it out. As I got older and understood the nature of her lifestyle as a junkie—that she might have used her body for drug money—I realized that was probably true. I guess I could’ve hired a private investigator, but I never pursued it. Whoever he is, he’s probably either a drug dealer my mother got involved with, or some poor, unsuspecting soul who has no clue he fathered a child. I don’t want to put anyone through the shock of finding out they have a kid twenty-four years later.”
Leo smiled sympathetically. “What if he wasn’t disappointed? What if he looked at it as a blessing?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I want to know the truth. I know that sounds odd, but I don’t think I could handle being rejected by him—whoever he is. It’s why I’ve never done one of those genealogy tests that match you with relatives. Maybe I’m missing out. Maybe I’m not. It’s a risk I’ve decided to take. Or not to take. However you look at it.”
“Fair enough.”
“Do you think I’m dumb for shutting the door on the possibility that I could find my father someday?”
“There’s absolutely nothing about you that’s dumb, Felicity. You know who you are, and you know what you can handle.”
The boat rocked gently as we continued to talk.
“It’s amazing how comfortable I am around you,” Leo said. “Back home, I feel like I’m two people—the one others see, and the one I really am, my authentic self. I trust almost no one. But I trust you. It’s a good feeling to let my guard down.” He looked up at the sky. “At the same time, I feel this pressure to experience so much more with you in the little time we have because I’m leaving. I want to know everything about you.”
“There’s not that much left to tell. I’ve told you almost everything. What else do you want to know?”
His eyes burned into mine for several seconds. “I want to know what you ache for…”
Despite the now-cool night air, I felt a rush of heat.
“This,” I finally said. “I hadn’t been worried about you leaving until you reminded me just now of how little time we have. I’ve been lost in our conversation tonight. I’m loving being here with you. It’s peaceful and exciting at the same time. I ache for more moments like this.”
He took my hand in his. “Do you want to know what I ache for?”
“What?”
“More time.” He squeezed. “More time with you. Or maybe I ache for time to stand still.”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
When I rubbed my hands over my arms, he said, “It’s chillier than I thought out here. Do you want to go inside for a bit? I’m thinking they’re probably upstairs by now. Maybe we’ll have some privacy.”
“That sounds good.”
We exited the boat and made our way inside. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty. I could hear footsteps upstairs and laughter in the distance, but it seemed we were in the clear from having to deal with the trio.
“Are you hungry for a late-night snack?” Leo asked. “I feel like I should make you something to eat.”
“Actually, I skipped dinner. I wasn’t that hungry earlier, but now it’s catching up with me. So yeah, I could eat.”
He looked around the kitchen. “Well, I’ll make you something, then.”
“I thought you couldn’t cook.”
“I can’t.”
That gave me a good chuckle.
“I’ve never cooked for anyone,” he said. “But it’s your lucky night. Because I’m going to cook for you.”
“This should be interesting.”
“Actually, it’s probably going to be dreadful.”
“What are you making?”
“It’s a little something called…you’ll find out.” He winked. “Actually, I have no clue. But I’ll figure something out. Sit down and put your feet up in the living room. I’ll bring dinner to you. Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“It’s midnight. I probably shouldn’t.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere, Felicity.”
“Okay, sure.” I shrugged. “Why not?”
He poured me a glass of wine, and I did as he said: put my feet up in the living room as I gazed out the large window at the moonlight over the bay. A warmness came over me. Leo made me feel wanted, special, and safe in a way I wasn’t used to experiencing. If I could bottle this feeling forever, I would. I knew it was fleeting, but for the moment, I cherished it.
Over the next several minutes, I heard lots of clanking in the kitchen. I hoped Leo wasn’t in some kind of distress. Finally, he appeared at the entrance to the living room.
“Okay, so it turns out, Sigmund pretty much cooked everything decent we had in the refrigerator tonight. I tried to make you an omelet, but I messed with it too much, and now it looks like soggy brains.”
I cackled. He’s adorable. I probably needed to rescue him, even if this was super entertaining. “Do you need help?”
“No. I have a Plan B. I’m going to present it to you, but you need to promise not to laugh.”
“I promise.” I paused. “Not to laugh…too much.”
He wriggled his brows. “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, he returned carrying a single plate.
My mouth dropped when I looked closer and realized what was on it: SpaghettiOs. The funniest part was the garnish of basil in the corner to make it look fancy.
“Turns out, all I know how to do is open a can and heat the contents.”
“But look how nicely you plated everything.”
“I was hoping the garnish would distract from the otherwise pathetic offering. Does it count as cooking if it comes out of a can?”
“You know what? I’m going to eat this. And I’m gonna enjoy it. You know why?”
“Why?” He grinned.
“Because you made it, even if that only entailed opening the can and heating it up. You said you’d never made anything for anyone. I’m honored to be the first.” I hadn’t had SpaghettiOs since I was a kid. I took a bite, surprised to find that they tasted better than I remembered. “This is surprisingly good…tangy.”
“Yeah?”
“Or maybe I’m just so hungry that anything tastes good.”
“Probably the latter. But I’ll take it as a win.”
Holding the fork up to his mouth, I said, “Taste.”
Leo took a bite and spoke with his mouth full. “It’s not terrible.”
I ended up feeding him random bites of SpaghettiOs as we talked and laughed.
This night, this “dinner,” even if a bit ridiculous, was everything to me. There are some moments you just know you’ll never forget, and this SpaghettiOs supper was one of them.
After I finished eating, Leo took my plate into the kitchen.
He returned to his seat on the couch next to me. My eyes fell to his mouth. Licking some remaining wine off my lips, I hoped so badly that he’d kiss me.
It seemed he’d picked up on my signal, because within seconds he leaned in, breathing erratically before taking my mouth with his. I gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, because he laughed against my lips. As he leaned over me on the sofa, pressing his chest into mine, Leo kissed me as if his life depended on it, as if he were making up for all the time this week when he’d held back.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I relaxed into the kiss, forcing away the voice inside my head that was ready to remind me I was setting myself up for a broken heart. I kissed him harder, moaning against his mouth and savoring his taste. He groaned as he took my bottom lip between his teeth and pulled ever so gently before deepening the kiss once again. From the commanding way he kissed, it was easy to imagine what he might be like in bed. I suspected he knew exactly how to please a woman.
As the kiss escalated, somehow I ended up under him. Rather than resist the change, I opened my legs, allowing him to position himself between them. Through his jeans, I felt the heat of his erection as he grinded himself against my throbbing clit. Leo lowered his mouth, kissing down the length of my neck. Then he suddenly stopped, resting his mouth against my skin and breathing against me for several seconds.
He looked up at me in a daze before pulling away. “I…think I should stop.”
“Why?”
“Because it started to feel like you weren’t going to stop me if I went further.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have,” I said honestly. My body yearned for his return as a coldness swept over me.
“Felicity…” he whispered.
“What?”
“I was seconds from being inside of you. A
t least that’s where I wanted to be. But I know that’s not what you want right now, even if you were getting carried away.” He leaned his head on the back of the couch and turned to me. “I lose all sense of judgment when I’m kissing you, smelling you, touching you. I am by no means new to this…but this level of need is new to me. I’ve never been so drawn to someone I also need to be careful with. I’ve never cared this much before.”
He raked his hands through his hair. “You asked me earlier what I ache for. And I wasn’t completely specific. I said ‘more time’, and of course that’s true. But I ache for so much more when it comes to you. I ache for everyday, mundane things that I’ve never yearned for—like date night, going out to dinner, and coming home to curl up on the couch together. I’ve never longed for that with anyone. Ever. Couldn’t have cared less about such things before. But I also ache to lie with you at night…to worship your body, to trace my tongue over every single one of your freckles, to take my time with you and give you the best fucking orgasm you’ve ever dreamed of. And if you don’t think you’ll ever be ready for that with me, I need to be careful not to push things. But I can’t lie to you. I want that. I want all of that with you, Felicity. So badly.”
I was barely able to breathe. “Where the hell did you come from, Leo?” I shut my eyes and exhaled. “This is so fucked-up. I want you, too. I’m just scared.”
“You’re not the only one.”
I sat up, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know I should probably head home, but I don’t want to.”
“Stay the night with me, then. We don’t have to go upstairs. We’ll stay right here and talk until we can’t keep our eyes open anymore. Just don’t leave.”
I looked up at him. “Okay. I won’t.” Nestling my body into the crook of his arm, I said, “Tell me a story.”
“What kind of story?”
The Aristocrat Page 11
