The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T H R E E
I
gnited. That was exactly how I felt.
It was what Aaron had done to me. He had lit me up.
Unraveled something that, I realized now, had been humming
beneath my skin for a long time.
Everything rioting deep inside of me hadn’t been shaped out of just a few
moments or an impossibly loud physical connection. What caused this
uprising had already been there, buried. I had kept it submerged under the
weight of buts, fears, and doubts. Pushed down by my own stubbornness too.
But now that it had burst out, resurfacing and streaming out of me, mixed
with need and want and something that was exhilarating and absolutely
terrifying, I knew that I had reached a point of no return. I wouldn’t be able
to push it down, shove it aside, or ignore it any longer.
And I didn’t think I wanted to.
Not after having a taste of what could be mine. And I wasn’t talking just
about Aaron’s lips. For the first time since we had landed in Spain, every
touch, look, smile, or word was real. After that kiss, every time Aaron grazed
my arm with the back of his hand, it was because he wanted to. Every time he
brushed a kiss on my shoulder, it was because he wasn’t capable of helping
himself. And every time he gathered me close and whispered something in
my ear, it wasn’t because my family was looking and we had a role to play. It
was because he wanted me to hear how beautiful he thought I looked and
how lucky he felt to have me in his arms.
We danced for hours, this time with nothing hanging over our heads, and
I kissed that smile that was only for me. More than once. I simply couldn’t
help myself.