Page 22 of Resisted
I pushed aside another box as she moved in that direction. She moved one single thing and then announced, “Here it is.”
I froze, then dropped the box in my hand. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
I struggled to get to the corner of the room. “You must have been searching with your man vision, because it’s right here.”
When I reached her, I peered over her shoulder, and sure enough, the damn blue and white bag of charcoal sat there, clear as a fucking sunny day. “No fair, you knew where to look.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She raised a brow. “I wasn’t aware we were going for fair. Want to know what else wasn’t fair? Having my favorite dress burned to a crisp. No worries, I’m over it now.”
“Obviously not, if you’re bringing it up out of the blue.”
Her hands went to her waist, resting on her hip as she stared at me. “I’ve just got to ask, what gave you the right to burn it?”
“What gave you the audacity to wear it in the first place?” I countered, but I was already feeling myself grow weak. I hadn’t realized just how close I’d stepped to her until her scent hit me like a fucking train, smacking me and nearly pushing me off-kilter.
“I expect you to reimburse me,” she demanded.
“For a dress from a million years ago? Fuck no. And even if I did, it would just be encouraging you to wear something like it again, and that ain’t going to fucking happen while I’m around.” The sight of her in a dress like that now? Now that she had filled in and her body like a fucking goddess’? No. I wouldn’t survive it.
“You’re never around,” she whispered as she looked down at the bag we were in here to grab.
The sound of her disappointment pulled at some shit inside of me, making me almost feel guilty for the first time in my life. “Does that disappoint you?”
She picked at the hem of her shirt, the slightest strip of skin exposing itself, drawing my attention. “A little. We used to hang out, and now I never see you guys.”
“I’d like to point out that hanging out with you was never done willingly. I never once volunteered for babysitting duty.”
“You’re always such a jackass. Doesn’t it get tiring?” She punched my shoulder.
Did it? Sometimes. But what else did I have going for me? I sighed. “Remember when you were a kid and we got matching tattoos before you demanded I watch princess movies and make popcorn? That wasn’t the worst day ever.”
“Thanks, your compliments are so charming.” The eye roll. That fucking eye roll. It was going to be the death of me one day. I just fucking knew it.
I leaned down and picked up the charcoal, glimpsing her on my way back up. “Did you just sniff me?”
Her faced reddened. “I—No.”
She was such an odd female, but fuck it. If she could sniff me, I sure as hell could do the same. I leaned down, determined to give her a hard time, and inhaled. My vision suddenly blurred. My balance nearly toppled. Instead of pulling back, I had this urge to crush her against the nearest wall and bury my head in her neck. The divinity of her scent was nearly weakening. She could ask me for absolutely anything in this moment, and she would receive it.
Her voice was breathless when she spoke. “Well?”
Fuck, I knew better than to encourage her, encourage any of this really. “Intoxicating.”
Instead of pushing me away, her fingers found my hair, toying with strands by my neck, pulling me closer. “You think so?”
I needed to back the fuck up. Escape. Leave this fucking place fast, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to tear myself away. I kissed her neck, even as my mind screamed not to. “Definitely intoxicating.”
A slight tug on my hair had me bringing my head back enough to look at her, those violet orbs swirling with so much heat that I could feel it radiating off her. “I—”
“I thought we were getting some charcoal,” George yelled from outside the door. I stepped back seconds before he appeared. “Did you make it yourselves?”
I swallowed, my throat so fucking dry, while her eyes still accessed me. “Sorry, I was having trouble finding it.” I hiked the bag higher on my shoulder. “Baby here found it.”
George beamed at us. “Fantastic, ready for more steaks?”
What I was ready for was a fucking ice shower and another three years’ distance.
Chapter 8