Page 110 of Shade
Do you see him there? Christ, he’s trying hard, isn’t he? Is your heart pounding in your chest like mine? It’s not easy to ignore him like this. In fact, I can feel my body weakening under his stare. It’s intent, like he’s either trying to figure me out or he thinks he has Jedi mind powers. Which, by the way, he does because do you notice the way my body involuntarily leans into him? Do you notice the way my lips pucker?
Okay, maybe my lips don’t actually pucker, but goddamn it, I want to kiss him so badly they’re nearly puckering.
I know, enough with the pucker. It’s such a gross word anyway, but all the puckering talk reminds me of the other night when he was kissing someone, and it wasn’t me. I’m reminded of the way he watched me as if it had been done purposely. And now he wants me?
I cross my arms over my chest. “Who was that girl you were kissing the other night?”
Shade blinks twice, and then a smirk presents itself on his full, perfect lips. His tongue darts out, again, the metal on his tongue ring catching the lights in the hall way. My eyes are drawn to his mouth and the memory of the way his lips felt closing around my nipples the night we were together.
A shiver works its way through my body, and I fight the urge to tremble in front of him, my legs shifting involuntarily and I find myself leaning into the door that I now have open. I back up two steps, inside the room now, but Idon’tclose the door.
Shade moves to the doorway, his hands raising to either side of the frame and he leans in, as if the action is automatic for him.
There we are, nearly face-to-face when his brows pull together and he asks, “What girl?” Heavy eyelids slowly shut as he leans in another inch, a blast of warmth exploding through my body. I’m on unsteady legs, shaking. Quick, I’m going down. Save me, mind!
“Well, you seem to be awfully determined on getting in my room, but what about that skank you were lip-locked with? Won’t she care?”
“Probably not considering I don’t remember her. But. . . ” He pauses, leans in, closer and pulls his bottom lip inside his mouth before releasing it slowly. “I’m very kissable.”
My mind’s a fuzzy mess. He’s like an intoxicating presence you never saw coming. Like carbon monoxide. And then bam, you’re dead before you know it. “You seem to forget a lot.”
He laughs lightly. “I wouldn’t forget you.”
Bull-fucking-shit you wouldn’t. He did! And you pulled out!
“I’m tired.” And then I slam the door in his face, silently praying he moved his hands and I didn’t smash them in the door. I wait for him to say something, but nothing comes aside from a thump, and a groan which I assume is his head hitting the door in frustration.
