Page 21 of Tangled Hearts (Mended Hearts #4)

Nic

I can tell the exact moment that Eli falls asleep. If the slow slumping of his body didn’t give him away, the soft snores coming from my lap would have. This is a dangerous game, and I know that. But I can’t make myself stop.

And worse? I’m not sure that I want to.

I like this. I like having Eli in my lap. I like the way his skin feels under my fingers, under my palms. I like the way he arches into me. The way his breath catches.

I drag my palm up his back again, exploring the smooth skin with my fingertips.

I want to memorize him, commit this and the feel of him to memory.

I never want to forget what his sleeping body in my lap feels like.

The way his back rises and falls with each slow, even breath.

The quiet, breathy sounds he makes when I’m touching him. The way he tries to choke them back.

Jesus, I’m a fucking creep. He’s vulnerable. He wants a friend. Companionship. And I’m sitting here… taking in the warmth of his body, soaking in his touch like a fucking fiend .

My chest goes tight, and I drop my head against the back of the couch, closing my eyes and trying to wrestle the guilt down.

I can do this. I can give him what he needs. I can stop myself from blurring the lines. I can keep myself sane. I can protect him. Even if it means protecting him from myself.

I run my hand slowly down his back again, then up, brushing my thumb over his nape. Just one more time. Just once. Just in case I don’t get to touch him this way again.

It’s a lie. A well-crafted lie. I’d touch him like this all night. I would, but I shouldn’t. I won’t. But my hand keeps moving. Up and down. Fingers exploring each knot of his spine. Thumb brushing his side.

When he shifts in his sleep, turning his face on my thigh, he blows out a gust of air. I feel the warmth through my sweats against my cock, and it swells.

Oh God. I can’t be reacting like this. I can’t. So I pull my hand out from under his shirt like his skin is going to set me on fire if I don’t. He frowns, a little furrow forming between his perfect brows. I try to move him off my lap, but his hand comes up, clutching my shirt tightly in his fist.

I force a deep breath into my lungs and carefully slide my hand under his head, sitting him up. He wakes for the briefest second, his eyes fluttering as he looks around the dark living room. “W’as happening?”

“Shhh,” I whisper, running my thumb down his cheek like I’ve somehow lost all control of myself. He leans into my touch, his head rolling to the side and his eyes closing again. Fuck fuck fuck. “Let’s get you to bed, doll.”

He doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t.

He’s half-asleep, lost in la-la land. I hook an arm under his thighs and wrap the other around his back, pulling him fully into my lap.

I know I shouldn’t, but I hold him there for just a second.

Nothing about this is good for him or for me, but there’s just something about holding him like this that has my heart tumbling over itself.

When I stand, his head falls against my shoulder, and he exhales a heavy breath that has goosebumps rising on my skin. I carry him down the hallway and into his room.

He doesn’t stir. Not as I turn the blankets back, not as I settle him in the center of the bed, not even when I pull the blankets up around him.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. His lashes are fanned across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted.

I could stare at him for hours, watching the rise and fall of his chest. I’m really in over my fucking head.

He wants a friend. A friend. That’s it. And even if he didn’t? Even if he wanted more, I can’t offer him that. I can’t. Holden would never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself.

No. Those are things I can’t let myself think about. Places I can’t let my thoughts go.

I back away from his bed slowly, then turn and step into the hallway. After giving myself a couple of minutes, I shut the house down for the night and take myself to bed.

I should feel relieved. I didn’t cross any lines. I didn’t do anything I’ll regret. I didn’t hurt my growing friendship with Eli, or my budding relationship with Holden. I should feel good. All I feel is fucking empty. Empty and lonely.

I’m tempted to text Silas. I always am when I feel like this. But no. I won’t do that to myself. Not tonight.

I close my eyes, trying to erase the way Eli looked in my lap, trying to ignore the tingling I feel in my fingers, like the ghost of his skin still exists there. I have to stop this. I can be Eli’s friend. That’s all. I can’t touch him. I can’t look at him that way. I can’t allow myself to.

“What do you want for dinner?” Eli asks, standing in the middle of the kitchen. He’s got a huge smile on his face. It almost seems like our day yesterday… refreshed him. Made him happy. Probably because he doesn’t know what was going on in my head.

“Um, I’m good with whatever you want.”

His smile grows. “Okay. How about we just order in tonight? Does pizza sound good?”

“I’m good with pizza,” I say, trying to mirror his cheerful voice.

“Great.” He pulls his phone out to place an order. “What toppings do you want?”

“I’m not picky.” I mean, pizza is pizza, right? It’s all delicious.

“Me neither,” Eli says, then his nose wrinkles. “But I’m not getting mushrooms. That’s gross.”

I can’t help but chuckle. He’s so damn adorable. “Alright. No mushrooms, then.”

Eli nods, going back to his order. “Okay, I’ll get a supreme with no mushrooms. Also some cheesy bread.” He looks up at me with a sly grin. “We deserve cheesy bread, don’t you think?”

I think he deserves literally everything he could possibly want. “I do think. Definitely cheesy bread.”

When he’s ordered, he tosses his phone down with a sigh. “Now what do you want to do? Are you a Grey’s hater?”

“The doctor show?”

He nods. “Yeah, Dad and Uncle Holden hate it. But I’m just a regular person, so I’m good with the inaccuracies, but no one will watch it with me. My friend Molly can’t handle gore, and Liam says there are too many seasons.”

I laugh. “I’m fine with watching it.”

His eyes light up. God, I am so fucked. “Okay. Perfect. While we’re watching, I can give you a comprehensive list of why Alex Karev is the best fictional character in the world.”

“Sure,” I say, chuckling a bit at his infectious enthusiasm.

When we sit down on the couch, there’s plenty of space between us—thank God—and Eli starts the show at the very first episode. “I only have one chance to get you hooked, so I figure I better just start from the beginning.”

The show is fine. It’s interesting, maybe not something I’d watch on my own, but the drama is intriguing. I may not be a human nurse, but as an animal nurse, even I can tell it’s overblown and dramatic for drama’s sake. It doesn’t matter, though; it’s entertaining enough.

Eli, on the other hand? He’s more enticing than the show could ever be.

He reacts with his entire body, and I know he’s seen this before—at least once, probably more—but he acts like it’s his first time.

He gasps and giggles and shakes his head.

Sometimes, he glances at me like he’s making sure I’m paying attention.

I am, but mostly to him.

Dammit, this is the opposite of what I’m supposed to be doing.

There’s a knock at the door, and I jump to my feet in a rush. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay,” Eli says, pulling his feet up and tucking them under his legs.

I open the door, and after tipping the delivery driver, I set the pizza boxes down on the couch and sit down. “Do you want to eat here or in the kitchen?”

Eli opens the cheesy bread and pulls out a piece, smiling when it does a massive cheese pull. “Here is fine.”

When he takes a bite, he groans, and my dick perks up. I mentally chide myself because come the fuck on. I’m almost thirty years old. I should have better control of my dick than this.

I take a slice of pizza and settle into the cushions. I’m making a valiant effort to watch the show, but my head is full of Eli. The pizza is good, though, and it seems like a safe thing to focus on, so I do that instead.

“Are you even watching?” Eli asks, startling me.

“Of course I am.”

He narrows his eyes at me before huffing and turning his attention back to the show. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Are you done eating?”

“I am,” he says, glancing at me.

I pick the empty pizza boxes up, taking them to the trash, before rejoining him on the couch. We go back to watching the show. I’m trying to keep my gaze solely on the TV, but every so often, I can feel Eli’s eyes on me.

About halfway through the second episode, he sighs. It’s not a happy sigh or a relaxed sigh. It’s a sigh that I’ve found means he has something to say, but he’s not sure if he should. I glance at him. “Everything okay?”

He bites at his thumbnail, nodding slowly. “It’s just… I was, um, wondering if you think it would be okay if I laid my head on your leg again.”

Fuck. This is such a bad idea. It’s not even that I don’t want him to. It’s more that I want him to too much.

I must take too long to answer because his face falls. “It’s okay if not. I know I can be a lot. If you want, I can just—”

“Eli.” He stops talking, his eyes wide and trained on mine before he quickly darts them away. If I ever come across his bio dad, I might actually end up with murder charges. I adjust until I’m sitting with my feet on the coffee table, then I pat my thigh. “Come on.”

“Really?” The disbelief in his tone has my heart aching. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He scrambles over, resting his head on my thigh. Unlike last night, my hand takes on a mind of its own, and I slide it under his shirt before he has a chance to ask. He draws in a sharp breath, and I freeze. “I’m sorry.”

I start to pull my hand out. “No,” he says in a rush. “Please don’t stop.”

I let out a shaky breath, and when I start stroking his skin in slow, even passes, he shudders hard, whimpering a bit. I pretend not to notice, and he pretends he didn’t, and another episode starts.

My fingers dance over his skin, and just like last night, I’m completely lost in the feel of him. He’s got a tiny patch of skin on his right shoulder blade that feels like it might be a scar, and there’s a spot under his ribs on the left that seems to tickle him if I touch it too lightly.

I keep my eyes on the show, but I’m not paying any attention to it at all. Eli shifts like he’s about to roll, and I move my hand just in time for him to flip onto his back. He’s asleep, I think. And if he’s not, he’s very close to it. “Eli,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move, and instead of letting him go—instead of waking him up like I should—I do something incredibly stupid.

I slide my hand back under his shirt, the front this time.

His skin here is even softer. I don’t explore him this way.

Not the way I did with his back. Not without his permission.

And especially not while he’s asleep. But I do settle my hand over his lower stomach, let my fingers spread wide, and feel the way his diaphragm moves with each breath he inhales and exhales.

I study his face. His pale skin and his dark lashes. The little freckle under his eye. The bow of his upper lip. Fuck, he’s flawless. My heart gives a hard thump, and I squeeze my eyes closed.

If I don’t put a stop to this soon, I’m going to do something terrible. Something I can’t take back. But for now? For tonight? I just want a little more.