He whispered, “You know why.”

Licking my lower lip, I glanced away. “Abell, you agreed. No sleeping with me.”

“Now who's bold? You think I'm trying to fuck you right now? Is that where your mind is, Nix?”

I sucked in air, lifting my chin high to try and stare him down. “I know what you want, Abell Birch. You can't fool me, and you aren't getting it.”

“Tell me what I want.” Lingering there, he casually slid his thumb over my shoulder-strap. “Say it out loud, baby girl. You might as well. You're already thinking about it.”

The memory of his warm lips haunted me. “I'm not,” I lied. “You're just... it's obvious. It's what you want from every girl.”

He went quiet, watching me without blinking. Abell stood perfectly still, only the occasional puff of air through his nose told me he was alive. There was a severity in his pupils, something burning up from deep inside.

What was he thinking about?

Lowering closer, his eyelashes twitched. “Maybe,” he hissed softly, “Maybe what I want from you is different. Did you ever consider that?”

I was so close to asking him what he meant. It was right there on my tongue. My pulse stampeded until my heart became a blur of sensation, I imagined it was a hummingbird trapped in my chest. “Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. I don't... want you. Not like this.”

Abell chuckled, pressing his forehead against mine. “Then why are you breathing so heavily?” His scent flooded me, my vision starting to sway.

He leaned into me, his erection digging into my thigh. Grinding against the front of my dress, he took a mere second to find where my pussy was. Was that his damn super power?

“Ah!” I cried, turning away so my cheek touched the books. “W—wait, we can't... you know we can't...”

Ignoring me, he slid himself up and down with deliberate movements. His cock rubbed at me through the fabric, insistent on driving me wild. “I can get you off like this.” He pressed harder, faster. “I can make you cum without fucking you.”

“Nix?” Gram shouted, echoing in the hall outside. “Are you down here?”

His voice snapped me back to the present. I didn't want anyone to catch me with Abell in such a revealing position, but my brother?

Grabbing Abell's wrists, I pushed him away from me. He gave me an inch of space, staring at me with lust glazing his eyes. “Remember our agreement,” I said. I darted a look at the hall. “I'm not doing this, we have to stop!”

There was a heavy beat, a long second, that passed between us. Was he going to listen to me? Or keep pushing, sensing I was about to break... that I had broken?

“Fuck!” he growled, wrenching away. His fists knotted at his sides, tendons flexing. Running a hand through his hair, he forced out a tight laugh. “Guess he saved you after all, huh?”

My juices were running down my inner thigh. I prayed nothing would show through my dress. “I saved me,” I panted, struggling to calm down. “I'm not sleeping with you again, get it?”

He eyed me hungrily. “I can feel you wearing down, babe. You won't be able to hold back much longer.”

A full body shudder, crafted from pure pleasure, shook me. What if he's right? The concept was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. No, I can't... that can't happen. I was smart enough to know that getting closer to Abell was a bad idea. But every second we spent together, I wanted... more.

So much more.

His father's words crept into my head, itching like spiders. Could you ever see yourself loving a man who chooses his obscene, selfish desires over your own happiness?

My answer had come quick:

Never.

I wasn't so sure any longer.

“Nix!” Gram shouted.

With one more shaky breath, I shoved past Abell. “We need to hide, before he finds us together like this.”

“What?” Abell laughed. “I thought you said he wouldn't beat me up.”

“He won't!” But he thinks Abell is scum, because I told him he was. I can't handle the way he'll look at me when he finds us alone! It was obvious what we were doing!

I'd have to beat myself up later for letting Abell get so close to me, when I'd meant to keep us as far apart as I could.

In a panic, I spun in place, searching for some escape. Gram was in the hall, and this room had no where to go.

We were trapped.

No. There's one place. My eyes snapped to the staircase. Not waiting for Abell, I threw myself up the steps towards the door above. The closet he mentioned!

“Wait!” Chasing after me, Abell's voice cracked. “Don't go in there!”

Ignoring him, I wrenched the handle, diving into the room as adrenaline made my palms slick. Fight or flight.

I'd chosen flight.

The scent of chemicals hit me first. It was dark, my eyes adjusting from the light that filtered in through the huge windows. It could have been a small attic, except every inch of it was filled with one thing.

Painted canvases.

“Nix,” Abell hushed, coming up behind me.

Moving forward, I gazed at the myriad of paintings. They were all stunning, brightly colored like flowers in spring. One by one, I walked past them, my hand in the air—wanting to touch, but knowing better. “What is all this?” I whispered.

Shutting the door gently, Abell stayed where he was, silent.

Peeking back at him, I went back to scanning the art. Someone with skill had done all of these. They were well preserved, only a little dusty. No one had been in here for some time.

Leaning in close, I realized they all had signatures. Tiny, curving white letters in the bottom right corner—they read 'Birch.'

“Did you paint all these?” I asked, standing up straight as a rod.

The light above cast hard shadows along his nose and brow-line. The movement of his head, as he stared at the paintings, was subtle. “No.”

“Then who?”

Coming forward, he reached for one of the paintings where it sat on an easel. At the last second, he pulled away. “My mother.”

Shock spread through me like cement. His mother? And I knew, deep down, even before I asked, that something sad existed in the air between us. “What happened to her?”

His lips made a shape, but it wasn't his normal smile. “She died. Years ago.”

I hugged myself harder. “When you were sixteen. Is that why you ran away?”

Abell twisted, watching me closely. “You have a good memory for details.” Again, he looked at the canvas in front of him. “You want to know what happened?”

“Yes.” I said it fast; there was no hesitation.

His outline was sharp, as solid as a mountain on the horizon. Yet still, I had a terrible feeling that if I touched him, he'd crumble away. “My mother was a... good person.” He paused. “More than that. There isn't a word for her. She was perfect, and kind, and her soul was gentle. Accepting.” Bending his neck, he looked at the window, whispering, “That still wasn't enough for him.”

Ice burned inside of me. “Your father.”

Nodding, Abell opened his palm, finally brushing the side of the easel. “I don't think he ever really loved her. It didn't matter how she felt, or what she did, he just didn't care. When she got sick, and the doctors said she didn't have long... she started painting.

“I joined her. We'd sit up here for hours, just talking, laughing, watching the colors dry. She'd always wanted to be a painter, but she'd given up that dream to take care of me. But I was older now, and she was—” He stopped himself, then grit his teeth. “Dying.”

My feet were rooted to the floor. In my pocket, my phone buzzed—Gram was calling me—but I didn't care. I was attached to nothing in that moment but Abell. If I thought he'd peeled back his walls before, now I knew what that really meant.

He looked past me, over my ear. “The day she went into the hospital, I knew she was done. Everyone knew. But while she lie there, waiting for my father to come, he never did. I called him, over and over, but it made no difference.”