I match his smoldering gaze, my expression just as serious as his. I shake my head only once, barely noticeable. But I know he sees it.
A smug grin sweeps over his face just as quickly as a deadly riptide, a small dimple appearing on his left cheek.
“Why don’t you use your imagination?” His tone hints at his condescension as he squints. “And try to guess?” He tongues his cheek as if trying not to laugh and I feel his tease directly on my clit. I’ve lost my voice, too wrapped up in witnessing Huxley like this. “Maybe next time you show me more of yourself, I’ll send you a thank you back.”
I pull his sweater over his head, and our lips crash together as I feverishly unbutton his jeans. I take my shirt off, and he pushes me against the bathroom door. His fingers dig into my heated skin. A desperate palm wraps firmly around my breast.
“Are you thinking about it?”
I snap back to reality.
“About what?” I croak.
His eyes are the darkest of greens. Neither of us has moved an inch since I parked the car; the only sound between us is the idling rumble of the engine.
Huxley stays silent for a long, tense beat.
When he speaks next, his tone has changed into something a little more desperate. “Why are you resisting this?”
There’s just enough angst hanging off his words to make meclose my eyes and inhale deeply, the notes of vanilla and black pepper of his cologne making my head swim before my gaze lands back on Huxley.
“You shouldn’t want this,” I whisper, my voice cracking on the mouthful of desire I’m choking on.
“I’ve alreadyhadit,” he growls between his teeth.
Silence crackles between us as we stare at one another.
Finally, I sigh and settle back into my seat.
“We can’t.”
I pull back onto the street.
25
HUXLEY
Idon’t know how much more of this I can take.
Connie is a walking contradiction. Every time I think I have her figured out, she goes and does something that has me questioning her intentionsandmine.
She’s so fucking frustrating.
Sometimes, I just can’t stand the sight of her. But I can’t stay away for long either. She’s catnip, and I’m a feral cat. For once in my life, I feel alive. And maybe this tug-of-war between us is actually leading me toward something good. As frustrating as she is, I haven’t lost my patienceyet.
“Shit,” Connie says under her breath.
It’s Monday morning and, as usual, Connie is driving us to work. The car still reeks from our tense conversation last night, like a sentient perfume digging its claws directly into my brain. I ignore it as best I can.
Letting my head fall to the side, I look at Connie driving.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” she says. Her eyes are on the road, but she’s clearly distracted. “It’s just that I realized I left my laptop back in my hotel room.”
“So, let’s go get it.”
She glances over. “You sure? I don’t want to make you late.”
