Page 23 of Stolen Summer
The glass bottle halfway to my lips halted. “Seriously? That’s what you want to know about me?”
Dangling the bottle from the end of his fingertips, he grinned. “Priorities. I don’t plan to lose.”
I went back for another piece of cheese. “This is a joke, right?”
A log in the fire gave a loud pop before dying back down to its lulling crackle. “You can’t back out on me now, Killer.”
Swallowing the cheese, I took a long drink from my beer. “I bet you were a bully in high school.”
He flashed me a grin.
The room grew warm, but the idea of putting out the fire and losing the light made me put up with the heat. I didn’t trust myself alone in the dark with Cole Riley.
“You seem to know your way around. I’m guessing this isn’t your first time inside,” he said.
I squeezed the bottle between my knees and shrugged out of my hoodie, leaving me in a thin crop top. Cole’s eyes stayed on me the entire time, and as I discarded the sweatshirt on the floor, I felt his gaze run over me. If I stood up, he’d get a flash of my stomach. Not that it mattered. He’d already seen all of me. I had no reason to be self-conscious with him. “Confession. I break into rich asshole’s homes for fun on the weekends.”
“The sarcasm in your voice isn’t enough to make me believe there isn’t some truth to your words. I’m not judging you. I’ve done my fair share of illegal shit.” His eyes were dark and alluring.
“Why am I not shocked at all? You’ve nearly killed me twice now.”
“Your life has never been in danger,” he said.
“I hate to see what your definition of danger is.”
The firelight glinted off something on his lower lip, and I studied him unabashedly, really studied him, taking in every line and angle of his face. Why did the good-looking ones always have to be assholes?
A silver hoop winked at the corner of his bottom lip. Where had that come from? How hadn’t I noticed it before? I was staring, but I couldn't stop myself. “Did you always have your lip pierced?”
Using his tongue in a maneuver that pulled my gaze, he spun the hoop from inside his mouth. “I got it when I turned sixteen to my mother’s great disappointment.”
This was the first time he’d spoken about either of his parents. My interest ignited. “What are your parents like? Besides filthy rich.”
“Honestly, the last thing I want to talk about is them,” he said, quickly shutting down. A coldness entered into his features, and I was disappointed to have put it there with what seemed like a naturally curious question.
I set my empty bottle on the table. “What do you want to talk about, or would you prefer we sit in silence and listen to the rain hit the roof?”
“Do you want another?” He indicated to the beer.
Tempting, but I should keep my wits about me. “Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”
His expression darkened as if I poked an open wound. “I may do a lot of questionable things. Hell, I’ve used girls, but I don’t have to force them. Ever.”
“Because you’re so charming with your handsome face, bad-boy attitude, tattoos, and pierced lip that no girl can resist you.” I wanted to lighten the mood because the harsh expression on his face made me fidget.
“Pretty much sums it up,” he replied coolly.
I snuck a piece of salami. “What’s it like to be so full of yourself?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what’s it like to be so uptight that you can’t let loose for one night? With all your responsibilities and jobs, when do you get to have fun?”
He hit a nerve, and it showed on my face. “Some of us don’t have the luxury to be free and do whatever we want when the mood strikes.”
His eyes gleamed. “That’s it. That’s what you desire. Freedom.”
I said nothing. Hated that he’d been able to read me and see deep into my soul when the rest of the world barely spared me a glimpse.
Why him?