The Knight Of The Rose (28 page)

sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed.”

He laughed, shaking hi s head, then just look ed at me for a few seconds. “And I’ m sorry it

doesn’t storm like that
every
night.”

My cheeks lifted first , forcing my lips to follow. He’s very sweet. It’s kinda nice to be

wanted—by him.

Every time my eyes scanned the curve of his shoulder, leading into his breastbone, my heart

skipped a beat of desire—the desire to lay back against his chest and stay there for the day.

“Come here.” Mike placed a hand on my shoulder and tugged.

My muscles were so stiff that I slumped dow

n heavily. Every inch of ski n that wasn’t

covered by my singlet touched his, making me shiver inside—a good shiver. “Why did you keep me

last night, Mike?”

“Are you kidding?” His arms tightened around me for a second. “You snuggled up so close to

me, Ara, with your face and your soft breath over my chest—why on
Earth
would I put you back in

your room?”

“Because, I’m not yours.”

“So you keep telling me, but yet...” He motioned down at my hand over his heart.

“What time is it?” I asked, moving my hand onto his stomach.

“Um—” He stretched his arm out around my back and looked at his watch, forcing me closer

to his chest. I like this closeness. “Midday.”

“Midday?” I sat up. “Where did time go?”

“Wait a sec.” Mike grabbed my arm as I leaped for the side of the bed.

I stopped and looked dow n at his hand; his warm, sturdy fi ngers took up so much of my

body, almost consuming the entire t op of my arm. “You stay. I’ll get br eakfast. Well, brunch now, I

suppose.” He grinned, and his unshaven, sandy-brown stubble did nothing to hide the sexy indent in

his cheek—not even a little bit.

As he gently pushed me back onto the pillows, everything from my heart down went numb

with the closeness of his soft, partially open lips, coming toward me so slowly. I closed my eyes and

held my breath, wai ting for them t o touch mine. But, he kissed my fo rehead and walked away,

leaving me with a mouthful of insult.

I folded my arms and huffed, watching him disappear into the hall. He didn’t kiss me. I can’t

believe he didn’t kiss me.

Outside the window, the little blue jay alarm clock mocked me with his chattering.

“Like
you
can talk,” I scolded. “You don’t even have lips.”

The bird stopped his noise, flicked his tail in my direction, then flew away.

The heat in my cheeks bur ned with rejection—again. He could’ve kissed me—he saw it in

my eyes, I know he did. What is he thinking?

I rubbed at the skin on my face, as if mayb e I could chafe off some of my awkwardness.

Maybe it’s me—maybe I just think too much. I me an, who says he should’ve kissed me? No one

ever said anything about taking the next step in our relationship.

I shook my head. I ’m not sure I’ll ever get this boy thing right. I mean, what kind of a guy

sleeps with a girl in his arms all night, only to kiss her on the
forehead
in the morning?

David was just as bad, really.

Maybe I’m just unnaturally hideous and all the guys I fall for ar e just too nice to t ell me—or

too cruel, to be exact.

Spreading the covers out neatly over my ribs, I drew a deep breath of the morning laced with

the warm scent of toast.

He’ll come back up soon. I need to compose myself. I hope my breath doesn’t smell.

I cupped my hand and blew into it, nodding

with approval when my breath came back

scentless, then knotted my fingers through my hair in a desperate attempt to tidy my pr obably very

haggard appearance.

Okay, so this is not composure. But I’ ve been crazy over Mike for so long. I want him to

come back up those stairs and look at me like I’m the most amazing girl in the world, then take me in

his arms and kiss me—on the
lips
. Not the forehead.

I blinked softly a few times and let my quiet breath ease my thumping pulse.

“What ya thinkin’ ‘bout?” Mike asked, leaning against the door with a tray of coffee and toast

in hand.

“You.”

“I hope so. From the look on your face, you
like
whatever you were thinking about.”

He rested the tray on the foot of the bed and sat down beside me, his homely smile set my

heart racing like—like I was the only one in the world.

Great, so he wouldn’t kiss me if I was the last girl on Earth—is that what I just concluded?

Mike’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head. “Where are you, right now?”

I came back to my own head, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. Did I phase out again?”

“Uh, yeah—” he scoffed. “Just a bit.”

“Sorry.”

“What were you thinking?”

How wrong it is of me to want you to tear off my clothes, when I’m in love with another man

as well. “I...I was thinking...”

“Whoa, hold on.” Mike wiped his hand across his mouth, then laughed once; a short, breathy

laugh. “I know that look. But...safe to say I’ve never seen it on
your
face before.”

Or you never noticed it before.
“What look?”

He took a deep breath, studying me carefully. “You don’t think straight when you’re hungry.

Just...eat, then we can talk.”

He’s right. The hollow, quivering void in the centre of my body may be partially due to the

lack of nutrients.

I bit into the t oast, and the peanut butter and jam swirled around on my tongue with t he

prefect consistency; it didn’t even stick to t he roof of my mouth. Mike sat quietly beside me,

grinning and chewing—making me want to throw the toast down and kiss away that smirk.

Wait, no, kiss him
while
I’m eating the toast—it ’s really t oo good to put down. “Mmm. You’ ve

always been the best at making toast.”

“Must be the chef in me,” he joked.

“So, if the chef in you makes good to ast, what can the cop in you do?”
That was suggestive,

Ara
, my inner voice jeered.

“I could arrest you? For dangerously good looks.”

I choked on t he toast for a second, nearly losing it out my nose. “That’s the worst joke I’ve

heard in ages.”

Mike chuckled. “So, I’m still king, then—of bad jokes?”

“Right? I forgot about that,” I mused. “No one here gets it. They think you’re just trying to be

funny, and not succeeding.”

“Don’t worry. I get ya’.” His teeth showed with his gentle smile.

“You always did. So—if you’re king, I’m queen, then?”

“Pardon the bad joke again, but...” l eaning forward, he stroked my cheek and, with his lips

nearly against mine, said, “—you’ve always been my queen.”

My breath touched his, expell ing from my lips in a short huff. What is it with him? Is he

blind, or dumb, or just plain ignorant? That’s two times today he should’ve kissed me, and now he’s

calling me his
queen
. Does he want me or not? Maybe I have bad breath. “Okay, Stop it.” I sat up a

little further and put the toast down, reluctantly, as a ful l speed rant shot off from t he starting line.

“Mike? What are your intentions? You keep playing this game with me—saying you’re in love with

me, but acting like you don’t want me. You touch me and pull away, or you say things to my dad that

make me think I’m imagining all this, and when we’re alone, you—it’s like you pretend we’re

together and then remind yourself that we’re not. Why? Why do you do that if you want me? Why do

you keep confusing me, Mike. I can’t do this. I can’t be the girl that takes charge

and marches

forward. I’ll never be that girl. If you want me, you have to make it clearer than this. You have to be

consistent.”

“Ara?” Mike frowned, surprised. “Where’s this coming from, baby? What’s wrong?”

“This is what’s wrong. Us!” I yelled and tried to stand, but he took my hand and pulled me

back down, grinning as his eyes lit with expectancy.

“Are you saying that...you
love
me?”

“You know I do—otherwise I would’ve told you already that I don’t.” I lowered my head.

“Holy shit!” Fists of elation flew into his hair. “Oh, baby.” He looked at me, and without

touching my skin, cradled his hands around my face—like he was going to grab it, but hesitated. “I

can’t believe it. I’ve waited so long to hear you say that. You have.
No
. Idea.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Baby, nothing’s changed. I —I never sai d anything to your dad ab out not wanti ng you.

What’re you—when was this?”

“The other day, when you said that thi ng about going home al one. I don’t do long distance

relationships, Mike—they don’t wo rk.” Even though I ’ll love David fr om afar—for the r est of

forever.

“Ara, I didn’t mean that. I was...” He looked frustrated. “As if I was going to tell your dad I’d

asked you to come home with me. He’d have pulled out his shotgun right then.”

My eyes became smaller with an insistent smile. “True. I suppose.”

“Baby, I want you. You know that. I...I want nothing more than for you to come home with

me.” He looked at me for a long moment. “And...you know I’d look after you, right?”

He would. He’d take very good care of me; love me, protect me, and I’d never want for

anything. “I know,” I said softly.

“Then...come with me.” He took my hand, his gentle touch was littered with a hopeful

energy. “You could finish school, still go to uni—be a teacher—like you always planned?”

“Mike?” I hesitated.

“Please?” He looked down. “Don’t say anything now. Not if you’re going to say no. Just. Just

think about it, okay? Tell me aft er the ball—before I go back home. But just think about it.

Please?” But...it would mean moving away from my da d—away from my family. Yet, I’d be with

Mike—be where I should’ve been all along. “Okay. I’ll
think
about it.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, seeming so open, so vulnerable—almost like the smile was the glass

case around his porcelain soul. “You know?” he said suddenly, releasing a really deep, tense breath,

then looked away—far away to where his thoughts were on the other side of the window. “Whatever

you choose? I already decided I can’t go back—not without you.” A warm grin lit his face then. “If

you stay—I stay.”

But you can’t kiss me?
The little fold between my brow s tightened. “What about your

career?”

“Ara, I could’ve joined Tact ical six months ago. But you know how dangerous it can be. If

something happened to me, I ...” he paused, thoughtful. “I never wanted to leave you alone, but

when—” he paused again, “when you moved away—and when you fell in love with someone else, I

decided that if I’d lost you, I’d make a perfect candidate to risk my own li fe because it’d be worth

nothing without you in it.”

“Mike? What a horrid thi ng to say. Your life is worth more than anything to—” I drew a

deep, exasperated breath. “Why would you think like that?”

“It’s not like suicide, okay. It’s just that I’d never have joined if I had you to look after—it’s

no life for a man in love. Neither is being wit hout you.” Mike’s eyes soften ed as they scanned my

cheeks and my lips. “When you told me you fell in love with David, I all but fell apart. I thought I’d

lost all my chances, for good. But...I don’t need a hot-shot career if I have the girl I love. You are
all

that will ever matter to me, Ara.”

“So you’d move here? Throw it all away? What would you do for a job?” the voice of reason

within me challenged.

“I’ll be fine. I used to be a chef, remember. I can get work anywhere.”

“But you’d need a working visa?”

“Or—” He took my hands again and looked at me with those charming, caramel-colour eyes

that melted my heart like maple syr up on pancakes . “Or, we could get marri ed—you’re still an

American citizen, right?” his tone softened on the end into a shrug of his shoulder.

“You’re never getting married. Remember? You
hate
wed-dings.” I laughed.

“No.” He shook his head. “I said I wouldn’t get married until I found the right girl.”

“And you think
I’m
the right one?” I stared into his face, my words coming out with way too

much sarcasm.

“I do. With all of my heart, Ara. You
are
the one,” he said with a slight laugh. “You always

have been.”

“Mike. You haven’t thought this through. I mean, you’ve only been here for a week—”

“No. Trust me, I’ve thought about t his—for a long time.” He nodded. “I just wanted to be

sure about how you f elt before I asked you. I uh, I don’t t ake rejection as well as I’d like to think I

do.” We both laughed sof tly. Then, he inched closer, and the serious Mike I’d come to know more

recently slipped into place. “All I’ve been waiting on is you—for you to realise you love me, and

then—that night, when I didn’t kiss you—”

I looked away, feeling the pain of the night I lost my mother etching into my heart.

Mike lifted my chin with his fingertip and pulle d my face toward his. His lips were so close

that I could smell the peanut butter on his breath. It smelled nice.

“—You took me by surprise, Ara. I always imagined we’d get ma rried first, before we made

love. I wanted everything to be right—f or you.” He shook his head. “I was such a fool. I should’ve

taken you when I had the chance. And then, when you left, I thought I’d lost you forever. I thought