Page 88 of Burning Embers
I have to bite down on my growing smile because that was exactly what I wanted to happen.
I love her laughter.
“No, please do. We need some candid shots for the spread.” She smiles at me playfully.
“Have you ever worn a football uniform before? I swear I get my underwear so far up my ass crack that I can feel it in my mouth.” I shudder dramatically.
“That’s a sexy visual,” she muses.
“Super sexy, I know.”
We finally reach her first period class, and I’m not surprised in the slightest to see Ethan waiting by the door for her. His eyes light up instantly, something warm and gushy filling hisexpression, and I have to bite down on my lower lip to keep from scowling at him. Bitter, possessive energy radiates through me.
“I suppose this is where I leave you.” I purposely position my body so I’m blocking Izzy’s view of Ethan. Petty, I know, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “I don’t know how I’ll survive without you, pretty girl.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, even as an enticing redness creeps up her cheeks. “You’ll see me in two hours.”
“That’s two hours too long.” I’m only half teasing, but fortunately, she doesn’t seem to hear the sincerity in my words.
Not that I blame her. She’s a human who doesn’t understand that she has four wolf shifters at her beck and call, desperate to please her, care for her, and love her. The bond connecting our souls screams at me whenever we’re away.
And my wolf isn’t any better.
That fucker whines and sobs and cries until he sees her. Then, he begins to wag his tail like a damn puppy getting kisses from his owner.
Even now, my wolf releases a melancholic howl at the thought of being away from her, even if it is only for two class periods.
I reach for her cheek and cup it gently. Slowly, I rub my thumb back and forth across her tender flesh, reveling in the way she blushes.
“Oops.” I flash her a flirty grin that doesn’t quite match the rapid pounding of my heart. A strange sort of desperation rises inside of me. “I seemed to have smudged the paint on your cheek.”
Lie.
It’s still perfectly in place, thanks to the paint having dried earlier.
“Let me fix it,” I tell her, wetting the tip of my thumb with my mouth.
Her eyes home in on my lip ring, and hunger fills her gaze.
Probably the same hunger I feel.
Carefully, giving her ample time to pull away, I brush my now wet thumb across her cheek, smearing the black paint until the number is no longer recognizable. I use the sleeve of my undershirt to clean the rest of it away, not even caring when the white fabric stains onyx. Only when Jake’s number has been completely removed from her skin do I step back and smile smugly.
She’s gaping at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted.
“Let me fix it for you. May I?” As I speak, I fumble in my backpack until I find a black Sharpie.
When she nods, apparently too stunned to speak, I grab her face gently—treating her the way I would invaluable porcelain—and write my number on her right cheek. Then I twist her face to the side and write Ashton’s number on her left cheek.
Satisfied with my work, I recap my Sharpie and shove it into the closest pocket of my backpack I can reach.
“There!” I say with a shit-eating grin. “You look perfect.”
The shock gradually fades from her face, replaced by narrow-eyed suspicion. “What did you do? You didn’t draw a penis on my face, did you?”
She hesitantly reaches upwards, but I grab her wrist before she can smear the still-drying marker.
“Maybe I did… Maybe I didn’t.” I waggle my eyebrows at her suggestively.