Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113

I watch her from behind my desk in the library, my eyes following every move she makes as she sorts through the books, then stacks them meticulously on the shelves. There’s an almost hypnotic rhythm to the way she works her hands reverently sliding over the spines of the books, her lips curling into a tender smile when she finds a title she’s particularly excited about.

I should be focusing on the work in front of me. I had ignored most of it all week, letting it pile up while I was distracted by her, by us. But every time I try to tear my gaze away from her to read through a contract or reply to an email, it inevitably drifts back to her.

Harley.

She’s sitting cross–legged on the floor now, surrounded by piles of stacked books, her fingers lightly tracing the edges as if she’s savoring each one, I know that look on her face. That look of quiet contentment, of being fully immersed in something she loves. It’s a side of her I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, and for some reason, it makes my chest tighten.

When I led her to the library doors earlier, I was nervous. Nervous about how she would react. Nervous about how much of herself she would allow me to see. I had no idea how she would respond to the space I had created for her.

And then, when I pushed open the doors and saw the surprise in her eyes, the way she hesitated just for a moment before stepping over the threshold, I knew I had made the right decision. And then, the moment she kissed me, so thoroughly, so passionately, I felt something inside me crack wide open. I hadn’t expected it, but it was everything I needed.

1 replay those moments in my mind her kiss, the way she agreed to try, even if she wasn’t ready to make any big decisions yet. I understand her hesitation. I do. She’s human, and I’m not. She has every reason to take her time with this. And to question everything.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I want her. I crew her. Not just physically, though the way she makes me feel is a constant ache I can’t ignore, but in every other way, too. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually. She’s everything I never knew I needed. The band between us, the pull we both feel, isn’t something I can easily explain, but I don’t have to. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones. And I know she feels it too, even if she’s unsure of what it all means

My thoughts wander back to her as I watch her stand and adjust the books, her brow furrowed in concentration. I want to help her, to be closer to her, to be the man who can offer her stability in the midst of all this chaos. But I don’t want to overwhelm her either. Not now while we’re still on unsteady ground.

I don’t know how to make her stay. I don’t know how to crase her doubts or push aside the insecurities she keeps hidden beneath her strong

extenor

But I know one thing–I’m willing to try.

I stand up slowly, leaving my desk and my almost untouched paperwork behind, and quietly slip from the room. I can hear the soft murmur of her voice as she hums to herself, focused entirely on the task at hand. I don’t want todisturb her, but I can’t ignore the sudden urge I have to do something for her–something small, something that shows her I’m paying attention to the little things.

I make my way to the kitchen and gather the necessary ingredients to make her a cup of coffee. I’ve been making it for years for myself, but for some reason, this time feels different. I move slower and take my time, as though each step is a careful offering to her.

The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee fills the air as I pour it into a matte black mug, and I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I walk back down the hall toward the library, and towards her.

When I step back into the room, the looks up from her work, and her eyes meet mine in surprise, obviously not having noticed that I wasn’t in the room with her anymore. Her gaze softens, though, when she sees the coffee in my hands,

my voice quiet but steady, as I walk over to her.

the miles bly, and the tension in her body momentarily fades. “Thanks,” she says, her voice low and grateful.

caches for the mug, the surprises me once again when her lips brush mine in a fleeting kiss. And even though it is just a quick peck, it shiver down my spine. I stand there for a moment, stunned by the warmth of her simple act and at the way my body tracts without me rom having to try

urthy of being doted upon,” I reply, my valce softer than

She lifts the mug to her lips, taking a sip, and I watch her closely–my eyes tracing the delicate curve of her neck as she drinks and noticing the pale blush that creeps across the apples of her cheeks. The small moments between us–these quiet exchanges–are becoming something I cherish more than I expected.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify