Page 30 of A Dark Fall
I swallow and shake my head again. “No, of course not. Messing you around wasn’t my intention, Jake. I promise you that. I’m not like that. I mean, canceling you and not him. God, I don’t know. This ...” I motion between us. “It’s not something. It doesn’t ...” I flounder.I don’t have the words to describe what this is. It’s a lot of things: nonsensical, terrifying, intense, exciting. I don’t want him to think I’m insane though, so I don’t say any of these things. But he’s waiting for something, I think.
“Sam is ... a nice guy,” I offer.
“And I’m not,” he says. A statement, not a question.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You don’t want him, Alex.” It’s another statement.
“What? What are you even talking about? How wou—?”
“When he kissed you, I saw it,” he cuts me off. “You don’t want him. That much was fucking obvious from a distance. It’s one of the only things that kept me in that car and stopped me from kicking his fucking head in. Seeing that you didn’t want him.”
Wait—is he saying that if he’d seen any sign I wanted Sam, he’d have hurt him? Why can’t I decide how I feel about that? I know it should disgust me. Horrify me.
Christ, I can’t think straight with him this close to me. I need him to leave. It’s much safer fantasizing about him alone.
I stand up from the sofa and grab a hold of the pearl at my neck again, for strength this time. “Well, your eyesight must be spectacular.”
He nods, looking up at me as I stand. “Yeah, it is. It’s genetic. I’ve really good genes,” he scoffs as though laughing at a private joke.
“I think you should go now, Jake.” I run a hand through my hair as I sigh. “It’s getting late, and I’d like to go to bed.” And fantasize about you there.
“I could come with you. I’m a pretty good cuddler.” He smirks.
I feel the goose bumps spread and ripple across my body in anticipation. Oh, I imagine that’s true. He’s so warm and muscular and smells divine. Yes, he’d be a great cuddler all right.
“I enjoy sleeping on my own, but thanks for the offer.”
“That’s not a no,” he points out, smirking deeper.
So, I still can’t say no to him, and he knows it. God, if he asks me to take my clothes off and let him have me here on the floor, I’m in serious bloody trouble. He bites his lip, and I decide the next time he kisses me, I’m going to do that. Bite his lip. I want to bite down on it hard enough that he cries out. I lick my lips absently.
He stands from the chair, closing the distance between us. “Okay, Alex, answer me one question, and then I’ll go.”
The closer he is, the less I can breathe, I’ve noticed. “Fine.”
“He a better kisser than me?”
There’s a smirk playing across his perfectly kissable mouth. He looks smug. Because he knows the answer.
I do a half-shrug thing. “I don’t remember, to be honest.” All lies. I remember perfectly well. I’m not likely to forget either.
He takes a quick step toward me, and my instinct is to step back—and I do, until I feel the living room wall at my back and he’s crowding me again. Our default position, it seems.
“You’re a terrible fucking liar, baby,” he breathes. Is he angry again, or turned on? Strangely, I can’t tell the difference.
Without my heels on, I’m a lot smaller than him, my entire body fully eclipsed inside his. He brings his arm up to brace it against the wall above my head and leans in so his face is only inches from mine. It hits me then. His scent. I almost close my eyes from the sheer pleasure of it. That woodsy, citrusy mixture that somehow smells completely natural. Unartificial. It’s the clean, intoxicating aroma of spice and lemon and something sweet. It makes my mouth water again.
At this distance and under this light, I notice his stubble growing in across his jaw, and it matches his hair exactly. A rich, sandy brown. God, he’s beautiful up close. His nose the perfect length, those eyes somewhere between deep green and deeper blue, completely dazzling, his lips full and wet against his slightly tanned, smooth skin. That’s when I realize he isn’t even touching me. He’s not touching a single place on my body, yet I feel as though I’m on fire. Burning up from the inside out. Just as I’m wondering why he isn’t touching me, he brings his hand up and draws his thumb over my lower lip.
“Yeah, you remember all right.” His voice is a hoarse whisper as he stares longingly at my mouth before gently forcing my lips apart with his thumb and pushing it inside.
I taste salt and heat and spice as his thumb grazes the inside of my lip and the tip of my tongue. I about manage to resist the urge to bite or suck on it.It’s such a simple thing, him putting his thumb in my mouth. It’s barely anything at all, yet it feels powerful, erotic. I feel it all over my body—my throat, my chest, my nipples, my legs. I feel it most in the dull, throbbing ache between my legs.
Oh my god.
An instant later, his mouth is on mine, and I can’t think anymore. His taste explodes on my tongue as a dam bursts in my belly. Our mouths mold together in a rush of wet heat and hot breath, and I hear him moan. I do what I thought about doing earlier and bite down hard on his bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth. He doesn’t cry out; he just groans deliciously low in the back of his throat. It makes my legs tremble. I bring my hands up and place them flat on his chest as if I’m going to push him away, but of course, I don’t. In fact, I pull him closer with a need so desperate it scares me.