When I met you

We

— I’ve never seen you wear pink. — I think out loud.

She slowly turns toward me at my comment, biting her lip.

— It’s not my favorite color.

— Of course. Red is. — I remember the first time she came to my house and told me that, minutes before ending up naked in my bed.

Isia looks surprised that I remember such a small detail about her.

But how could she possibly think I would forget?

Since Akermisia doesn’t seem convinced, I take her hands and pull her closer.

— I remember, okay?

— Congratulations on your excellent memory, Mr. Melchior. I’d be concerned if you didn’t. You’re still far too young to be losing your memory so easily.

I can’t stop the smile that insists on spreading across my lips when she calls me “Mr.”

Isia enjoys my reaction.

Most of the time I don’t feel lighthearted, but with her it’s easy to smile and pretend I’m a normal guy, without the weight of a thousand traumas and problems dragging me down.

She keeps pulling me along while she snoops around the house.

Eventually, we stop in the kitchen, a large space with polished gray cabinets that contrast beautifully against the wooden walls and matching dining table.

She shifts her weight onto her heels when she stops in front of another set of glass doors.

— This is so beautiful…

— You’re the beautiful one.

My hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to me.

Miller lets out a soft gasp.

I trail my fingers along her thigh, following the edge of her dress as I subtly lift the fabric.

She closes her eyes, and just seeing how Isia reacts to me makes my pulse quicken.

Just as she’s devoted to appreciating details, she’s equally attentive to my touch.

She bites her lip and looks up at me.

I need every ounce of self-control not to tear her clothes off right there.

— Do you like the kitchen?

— It’s really… very beautiful.

Akermisia wraps a hand around the back of my neck and kisses me, letting out a soft sound that makes it impossible to think straight.

Our lips hover close together, our breaths mingling.

Then she clicks her tongue playfully, teasing me.

I lose control.

Actually, I think I’ve been out of control since the moment I met this girl.

— You’re testing me, Isia.

Her sunlit eyes remain fixed on mine as she wets her lips, making every muscle in my body tighten.

— Maybe I am.

I run a hand through her hair, my fingers settling at the back of her neck.

Akermisia laughs, and then I pull her into another kiss.

— You’re impossible.

— And yet you’re still here. — she whispers.

I turn her until her back rests against the counter and step between her knees.

She lets out a quiet laugh and wraps her legs around my waist.

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

We simply look at each other.

Miller takes my hand and intertwines our fingers before pulling me closer again.

She removes my shirt while our eyes never leave one another.

Her gaze is filled with warmth, affection, and something deeper that makes my chest tighten.

I shiver beneath it.

It’s powerful enough to make me feel rooted to the spot.

She runs her hand across my chest while I kiss her shoulder, her neck, the soft skin above her collarbone.

At some point, the straps of her dress slip down, and I brush my lips across her bare skin.

A low groan escapes me when she pulls me closer.

For a while we remain wrapped around each other, kissing in silence.

The intensity of it leaves me breathless.

When I finally pull back, I rest my forehead against hers.

Her fingers trace the line of my jaw.

I never want to leave this moment.

Her nails lightly scratch my back as I hold her against me.

My hands move across her waist, her stomach, memorizing every inch of her.

She studies my face quietly.

I study hers.

I want the world to end right here.

With her.

Nothing seems more perfect than having Akermisia in my arms.

✶

She’s wrapped in a blanket when she approaches.

Walking on tiptoe because she’s barefoot, probably because the floor is cold.

Isia sits beside me on the porch sofa.

I’m staring at the fire pit when she slips into my arms and rests her head on my shoulder.

I feel the warmth of her skin against my arm.

Her long lashes resting against her cheeks.

Her lips closed as she breathes slowly through her nose.

She looks so delicate.

So fragile.

— It was a perfect day, Adam. — she says softly.

She’s curled up so closely against me that I can feel her heartbeat.

It was summer, but the forest surrounding the house and its elevation made the night pleasantly cool.

I smile.

I’m happy to know that her perfect day included me.

We spent most of the day together, laughing, talking, and enjoying having nowhere else to be.

Afterward, I brought the groceries in from the car.

Akermisia laughed at me for not knowing how to shop properly and then made an incredible dinner.

She was an amazing cook, something I hadn’t known before.

— I don’t like cooking often when life gets busy, but I enjoy doing it every now and then. — she’d told me when I asked how someone who cooked so well wasn’t on a famous cooking show.

— We should get some sleep.

Isia grumbles.

After dinner, we cleaned the kitchen and took a shower together.

Or at least we tried to.

Begging for mercy, she’d eventually asked me to wait outside so she could get dressed without my hands distracting her.

Yet here we were.

Akermisia hadn’t lasted long without me.

And I don’t think I would’ve lasted long without her either.

With the hand that isn’t trapped beneath her body, I grab the wine bottle from the side table and pour two glasses.

Miller carefully takes hers and drinks a sip.

— Are you trying to get me drunk so I won’t want to sleep? — she accuses, adjusting the blanket around herself.

— Why do you want to sleep? There’s nothing to do tomorrow. No deadlines. No assignments…

— I’m tired, Adam. — she smiles.

I try not to answer with a mischievous grin.

I lean closer as she takes another sip, breathing in her scent.

Warm.

Fresh.

Wonderful.

— I did say I’d wear you out…

Akermisia makes a face and nudges me with her foot.

— Tell me about yourself. — she prompts, her eyes bright and curious.

— What do you want to know? — I pinch her foot lightly.

She jerks it back and stares at me in disbelief before smiling and taking another sip of wine.

— Your childhood. Your parents. I know you come from a complicated family, but you’ve never told me the details.

— I don’t usually talk about them.

— But I’d like to know more about you.

— There’s not much to tell. My mother never wanted to be a mother. She only did it to provide heirs for my father. She never put much effort into the role. Kalon and I were raised by nannies while she traveled the world like a true socialite. And my father put a lot of pressure on us. It was suffocating and painful. He wanted us to fit into a predetermined mold. When my grandfather died, I was fourteen, and things only got worse. He was the only one who truly cared.

— I’m sorry. — Her hand gently strokes my arm.

But I barely register the touch.

It’s not what I want from her.

Unfortunately.

— That’s just it. I don’t want pity. I am who I am.

Akermisia looks away, hurt.

She finishes the rest of her wine in one gulp before biting her lip.

— I didn’t mean to be harsh. Sorry. — I say quietly, taking the glass from her hand and pulling her onto my lap.

Akermisia adjusts the blanket around herself stubbornly while tracing invisible patterns along the exposed skin of her thigh.

I follow the path of her finger with my eyes, imagining it’s me touching her there.

— But you were.

— It wasn’t my intention. — I explain.

She stays silent until she finally breaks it with a direct question.

— Have you ever been in a serious relationship?

— No. — I answer. — Of course not.

She rolls her eyes and smacks my shoulder.

I catch her hand before she can pull away.

Her eyes meet mine, and I pull her closer.

— You’re the first person I’ve ever truly allowed myself to open up to. So forgive me if I don’t always know how to do it. But I want you to know that I’m trying. I’ll always be trying for you, Isia.

Her face lights up with that radiant smile.

And I take a moment to admire her beauty before kissing her again.

— Adam Melchior being romantic. — she frowns.

— Akermisia Miller not being stubborn and impossible. — I make a face.

She glares at me.

I kiss her.

She smiles.

And we continue our dance.