Page 13 of Wilting Violets

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And I wasn’t going to let that happen. I needed to see him before I left.

Those kinds of thoughts, beer, my upcoming departure and my overwhelming need were what brought me to the door at the end of the hall that night.

We’d been having a going away party for me. Mom and Swiss were long gone.

The party was in full swing as it approached midnight. I’d already texted my mother to let her know I’d be crashing at the club. She’d reminded me about the time we had remaining and demanded I be back for shopping bright and early. There were a lot of exclamation marks.

I’d promised then made my decision to walk down the hall. He was there. I’d seen him walk into the room when I was playing pool with Colby and Lucas. His eyes had locked with mine for a split second before he strode directly in the direction of his room.

The party in the common room was still going on, as it would be until the wee hours of the morning, I guessed. No one would notice me slipping in, and hopefully slipping out in the early hours of the morning.

My hand shook as it fastened around the doorknob, but I didn’t falter. This was the right decision, come what may.

I felt completely back to normal … physically, at least. I wasn’t sure how long I was supposed to wait before having sex after having an abortion. I guessed probably longer than it had been. Maybe it made me a bad person, for wanting him so soon after what I did. But maybe it made me human. Plus, I had three condoms in my purse that I was going to make sure he put on. No ‘I’m taking you raw’ crap. Not when men made a choice that they didn’t have to face the consequences for.

The door opened with a creak.

He was awake and fully clothed.

I figured he might be asleep. In truth, I’d imagined, in great detail, how I’d crawl into bed with him, naked, and where things would go from there. It was one of my talents, imaging complex, romantic scenarios in my head in which the ideal outcome would be me being the heroine, the love interest, and on more than one occasion, the queen of some Scandinavian country.

But as it was with all of these scenarios, it never turned out as I imagined. Although unlike the rest of the occasions, I was not disappointed.

Elden was fully dressed, awake and … reading.

He was lying on top of his expertly made bed, ankles crossed, reading. Complete with reading glasses. That he really, really pulled off.

I tried to spy the title of the book he was reading, but he moved too quickly the second the door opened, dog earing it and placing it on the nightstand along with his glasses. He was on his feet in an impressive amount of time.

“You move like a panther,” I informed him. “And you look great in glasses.”

Elden did not look pleased with my compliments. He looked very pissed off.

“What are you doing?” he growled as I closed the door behind me.

“It was my birthday a few weeks ago. You didn’t get me a gift.” I stepped forward, my feet sinking into the carpet of his bedroom as I slipped off my heeled mules. “It’s a new year. I didn’t get to kiss anyone at midnight.”

I had dressed with a purpose tonight. My dress was black, made from silk with red flowers all over it. It contrasted with my pale skin, skimmed over every one of my curves and finished mid-calf. My black hair was curled so it tumbled past my shoulders, framing my face. I’d gone for minimal makeup, only a sharp cat eye to emphasize my eyes, which I thought were my best feature.

There was no chill in the room, but my nipples pressed through the thin silk of my dress. Elden found them as his eyes skimmed my entire body.

His gaze was hungry. Unadorned.

Not the same way he’d looked at me on my mother’s wedding day.

His eyes had always met mine, every time, shocking me like I’d just put my hand on a live wire, but they always darted away quickly. And that gaze never went south of my eyes.

Which was a good thing. He couldn’t very well be checking me out… I was now officially Swiss’s teenage stepdaughter. It didn’t matter that I was a legal adult and had been for one year now. Not to Swiss, at least.

Not to my mother who still thought of me as a little girl.

Elden didn’t.

Of that I was sure.

So that’s why I came to his room at five minutes to midnight, after enough beers to get rid of my nerves but not enough to fully impair my judgment.

“Stop, Violet,” Elden rumbled as I advanced on him. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, eyes moving slowly over me. They left fire in their wake.


Tags: Anne Malcom Romance