It’s so hot outside any makeup will probably melt right off my face, but I touch up what was rubbed off. Fluffing my hair up, I do one good ’80s-era Bret Michaels glam-pout in the mirror before I go back to my room and spritz my favorite peach body spray. Then I dig through my closet to retrieve the envelope with my tip stash from the knockoff Doc Martens boots.
Stepping into black chunky sandals, I shove the phone in my pocket, now blaring a rather spicy track from theOpen Up and Say … Ahh!album.
I must not have heard the front door, because when I emerge from my room singing “Tearing Down the Walls”—with gusto—I’m greeted by my duet partner at the end of the hallway watching me as he mouths the words.
I decide to be a punk and stalk toward him, singingslightlynaughty lyrics straight to his face.
Okay,verynaughty.
The words come back to me as the song plays, but I’d forgotten how suggestive they were.
Oh geez.
I grab my phone to turn off the music, but DC’s not about to let me off the hook that easily. He raises both well-defined arms to drum the rhythm over the hallway entry, singing every word until he sees my gaze trip over the sexiest sliver of skin to ever exist between the hem of a black T-shirt and a low-slung pair of jeans.
If we were onSesame Street, the letter of the day would beV.
Vfor very wrong. Very off-limits. And very, very freaking hot.
His voice falters for a split second, as if affectingmeis affectinghim.
Time ceases to exist just long enough for every coherent thought in my brain to lay itself to rest as I drag my eyes upward, following the extension of his upper body. The banded tattoo flexes around his forearm, while his sleeve fights to conceal a rose, and some sort of vine taunts me over the edge of his collar. I think that one whispered my name.
It looks new.
Is he bigger than he was yesterday?
Dang it, Annie!
I shake my head like an Etch A Sketch. I never would’ve had that thought if she hadn’t brought it up, and he got a haircut too.
Why does he even know this song? No one under fifty knows this song.
But of course Daniel does.
He enunciates every word right back at me, never breaking eye contact, neither of us blinking.
Well, this isn’t hot at all.
Feeling a little sassy from the music, I walk right up to his chest, holding his gaze. He smells of leather and wintergreen Tic Tacs as usual. Maybe a hint of coconut instead of the spicy man shampoo. Whoever cut his hair must’ve used a new product. And I now hate some faceless stranger who touched his hair.
Oh my word. Get a grip.
Towering over me by nearly a foot, because I’m barely a whole human, he lowers his eyes to follow mine with no intention of letting me through.
Mercy.
Why am I like this?
I blame the music. Poison must have a temporary insanity effect on my confidence, because I double down and hold hisstare until I forget the words. It could be a different song by now. I don’t even remember why we’re here.
Music still blasts from the phone in my hand, but we’ve both stopped singing. My options are to continue our face-off or come into full body contact to get by. I stand motionless with my mouth slightly parted and my brain devoid of all activity until one pesky little temptation wins.
I reach up to touch the ends of his hair, now falling with haphazard perfection just past his collar instead of his shoulders.
“Careful now.” He leans close to my face with a seductive smirk. “Don’t start something unless you want me to finish it.”
I shiver when he shifts the Tic Tacs in his mouth, and my eyes dart away from whatever the heck I just stirred up. I try to focus on my phone but drop it. Recovering quickly, I tap the music app and attempt to change the song, but DC doesn’t budge.
