I think it’s because the eyes are the windows to the soul.
Maybe they’d learn our real secret—we didn’t have any souls.
Coldness filled my veins again. The kiss, the outfit—Snitch was like every other chick I’d met, pure manipulator.
“You really have some kind of death wish,” I said.
She quickly averted her gaze.
“If you weren’t there for me, then you were trying to snatch something priceless.”
I don’t believe in fate. Fate is the bedtime story people without power tell themselves so they can fall asleep.
“I don’t know how else to say it. No one sent me. I’m Ms. Abigail’s girl. I was on the way to bring her tea. You grabbed me.”
“Are you saying I meant to grab you?” The idea would have been laughable if I wasn’t so fucking pissed. “I must have missed the moment when you said, Hey, you’ve got the wrong fucking person.”
“No…no…I just…” She rolled her lips.
Our reflections shadowed the glass wall that separated the living room from the rest of my wing. I realized this was the first time I’d had someone here other than Woodsy or Mom or Grandpa in, shit…ever. At least since Dad had died.
“I didn’t know who you were at first,” she said softly. “When you kissed me, I didn’t know it was you. I should’ve stopped it anyway, because it’s not like someone would be looking for me.” She broke off on a self-deprecating laugh.
And that laugh sucked me in. That single shred of honesty, where in my world, no one would ever admit even the slightest chance they could be unwanted.
I leaned forward, elbows digging into my knees.
“But then…I realized who you were, who you thought I was, and I really should’ve stopped kissing you. I know that was wrong. I knew it was wrong in the moment.”
It was like heroin listening to her, watching her.
A Crowne is never wrong; everyone else is simply mistaken.
My grandfather’s advice echoed in my head, one of the many pieces of wisdom he’d imparted.
“I didn’t stop because…” Snitch took a deep breath, and I leaned even more, trying to swallow every drop. Every slight pout of uncertainty on her lips, the small dip in her brow.
“I knew I would never get this moment ever again. So I stole it.” Then she lifted her head, brown-green eyes furious in their earnestness. “But I stole it for me. No one else.”
Every moment, experience, interaction in my life had taught me honesty wasn’t something people actually had; it was a word used to manipulate. So why the fuck did my gut believe her?
“Listen, uh…” I hopped off the table. “My harem is full, so good luck.”
I stole it for me.
I don’t know why the fuck that was twisting me up so much.
I hated her.
Wanted to crush the part inside me that kept reacting.
Wanted to fucking crush her and bury my cock in her at the same fucking time. Shit.
Fuck.
I stole it for me.
That shouldn’t affect me. It shouldn’t make me twist on the desk in discomfort. She’d pretty much admitted to everything I expected and loathed in a person. However, no one ever wanted to keep the pieces they took from me for themselves.