The primary rating from AMIE KNIGHT


"What if I don't consider you siblings, Hazel? What if I never have? What if I never want to?" I heard him mutter in my hair.

My breath caught. My stomach tumbled and I closed my eyes. I could still hear his heart beating under my ear. It accelerated every second and I knew that it would probably scare him to death to say it. It wasn't as if I hadn't known how he felt. It was always there in a thousand ways that he showed me all the time. Deeds meant so much more than words, and Oliver's deeds were greater than life.

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I just lay there. It wasn't like I could say I never thought about it. It wasn't as if I could tell him I had no feelings for him. Because I didn't lie to Oliver. Each.

When I felt his fingers slide under my chin and raise my eyes to his and slowly lower his face to mine, I said nothing. I didn't say stop or tell him what a terrible idea it was. No, I wanted that. Now. I would tell him later that it was because I was drinking too much or that he was too young to know how he felt about me. But now I let his nose stroke my tip. I felt the trembling breath of his breath on my lips and I closed my eyes and waited, my skin vibrated with consciousness.

One, two, three times he stroked the lush softness of his lips over mine. Slowly. Deliberately. Every feather-light touch of his mouth against mine like a hot iron for my soul. My breath stopped one, two, three times and my heart stuttered. Finally, his lips pressed so lovingly, so gently, so damned from the heart that my nose burned with emotion. He neither opened his mouth nor forced his kiss. No, Oliver's mouth was as sweet as he was effortlessly. For seconds that felt both too long and too short, he held his mouth to mine and we finally pulled back and he leaned his forehead against mine. I felt a tear slide free and slide down my face.

Because this kiss only reminded me of Oliver's innate kindness and why I couldn't have it. He deserved someone a thousand times better than me. Not some crappy girl who cut herself. Not any girl who would never mind a lot because she had never been or had a lot.

I raised my own hand to his jaw and held it in my hand like the precious thing it was. "Winnie," I choked, trying to explain as more tears came down my face.

"Shhhhh. It's okay, "he whispered, pulling me back onto his chest and lying in bed." Just sleep. "He rubbed my hair and back and calmed me down.

And there he saved me again. Or maybe he just saved himself this time.

About the author

Amie Knight was a reader for as long as she could remember, and a love lover since she could get her mother's books in her hands. As a dedicated woman and mother with a penchant for music and makeup, she will never leave home without her eyebrows and eyelashes being made right. If she doesn't read and write, you can see her jamming with her two children in the car to R & B, Country and Showtunes of the 90s. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina and cannot imagine living anywhere other than the south.

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