Not that he’s in a suit this very moment. No, that would have somehow been better for me thanthis.Because the black collared shirt he’s sporting with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his dark wash jeans are scrambling my brain. Again, I want to look at his jacket draped over his corded forearm muscles and say, “Really, buddy help a girl out here.”
He’s gorg—Sweet baby Debbie, Evie. Focus.
How does he still have this chaotic effect on me? It’s like a constant battle between reality and my masochistic dreams that sees the bottle labeled “poison” and thinks,But could we still have a taste?
“I’m on break, and this is my favorite spot. I didn’t mean to creep or anything,” I finish nowhere near confidently, but they were words arranged in a generally agreed-upon manner, so there’s that.
“I’m used to you following me around like a creeper. It’s fine.” He smirks and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
I roll my eyes, folding my arms in front of my chest. “The way you must think your smirk is charming, the amount you employ it. But black magic doesn’t work on me, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Hi. Liar.
“Oh, now see, that’s something we’ll have to practice because you’ll need to at least pretend like my magic works on you.” His lips tug upward in a dangerous smile as his eyes rake over me. A hypnotic gleam flares in the recesses of his gaze, sparking a blazing fire in its wake. Like I needed a reminder I made a deal with the Devil, and now my insides are hell.
“I can pretend that you cursed me.”
“I think we could work with that—” He rests his hand to the side of my head, hovering far too close for my protective shields to stay firmly in place. His teeth graze across the lower portion of his lip, and I fight back the pull to do the same, caught under the spell of his bewitching stare. “Yes, I cursed you, and now my lips on your skin are all you can think about.”
“You’d have to be desperate to put them there,” I whisper, my lips aching for his to brush against mine. Maybe he really is casting a curse.
“Dying, Peaches. Show me you’re dying too.”
My mask slips enough to elicit a “there you go,good”from Liam, his breath prickling the hairs on the nape of my neck.
My entire being calls to him.
Don’t. Trust. This.
Fight the lean.
“See this—” I wag a shaky finger. “I’m not falling for it this time. I’m officially calling this whole thing off. Whatever you’re up to, I don’t want to deal with the ramifications. Consider your prank busted.”
“My prank?” He blinks, and a false doe-like innocence twists his silhouette into an almost saintly demeanor. It’s the patented look he’d plaster on the minute my mother entered a room, and the blame landed on me for whateverhe did.
“Evelina, why did you go in the pool with all your clothes on?”
“Why are you covered in pie, sweetheart?”
“If you didn’t want the book covered in mud, I don’t understand why you read it so close to their football game.”
“Oh heavens, why did you think cutting a random section of your hair was a good idea?”
“Yes, whatever you’re up to that’s making you do shit like this—it’s over.”
He steps back, stumbling as if the force of my statement physically gut-punched him and searching my face—for what, I don’t know—but I steel away, the nerves coursing through at the light jolt that permeates my being whenever his amber eyes meet mine.
“Honestly, Peaches. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard what you said with Eli. He asked if you had a plan for dealing with me—and you said you were trying to get my wall down so you can torment me again, or something like that. Well jokes on you buddy because the wall’s way freakin’ high now.”
“Or something like that,” he repeats with a shake of his head. A muscle flicks angrily in Liam’s jaw as he pins a heated stare on me. “I take it you missed some of what I said, huh?”
“I heard enough.”
“You really didn’t.” He chuckles bitterly. “Un-fucking-believable. I almost thought we were getting somewhere.”
“Oh please. You’re just upset I spoiled whatever you had planned.”
