He knows what he’s doing, and Ihatethat it’s working.
My pulse thunders in my ears as everything else dulls and slows. Suddenly, looking at him feels like a reminder of all I haven’t done and desperately want to do.
I’ve never seen a man without pants on in real life…never placed my hand on someone else’s bare thigh…never kissed my way down an abdomen toward—
“I don’t know.” He smiles knowingly, his eyes dipping to my parted lips as his head tilts in insincere boyish curiosity. “Can you?”
Another question:Why does every word out of this man’s mouth sound like innuendo?
I swallow, trying to soothe my parched throat. “I’m sure you havenoshortage of people who like…spiders…in your life.” The tip of that damned smile crooks his damned mustache upward and I feel the heat pool in my cheeks.
“That’s true.” He nods slowly, his hungry eyes still held on my lips as if he’s forgotten the disheveled person they’re attached to.
“So, it doesn’t matter what I think of them,” I whisper raggedly.
Without a word Milo reaches into his back pocket, plucks out a credit card, and drops to one knee beside me. He smoothly scrapes the droplets of paint I’ve been fighting to get off the floorboards in one clean go with the edge of the card, then purses his lips to blow off the chalky residue.
Before I’ve managed to close my mouth, he’s wiped the card clean and tucked it back into his pocket.
Then he turns to face me, lifting his chin so his eyes are level with mine. Up close they’re still as dark as night but there are flickers of lightened shades among the deep, deep brown. Like faraway stars against a midnight sky.
I realize two things at once.
One: He is undeniably, ridiculously gorgeous.
Two: He is far, far,fartoo close to me.
“Actually,” he says in a low voice, “I wouldloveto know what you think, Prudence.”
Oh.I force an inhale, and it’s louder than I’d like. But it couldn’t be helped. It felt urgent to pull air in. I was getting dizzy.
“I—” I don’t even know what to say.
What do I think of him?I think he intrigues me, that’s for sure. I think he’s beautiful, but he already knows that to be true. Ithink he’s hiding something under this bravado of his, but it’s probably none of my business. IthinkI want him to touch me, but I know better.
Above all else, I know for certain that I wouldn’teverwant to face the mortifying ordeal of having Milo be the first man who sees me naked. I know I wouldn’t want him to be the man who watches me fumble my way through what should probably be second nature by my age.
“I think you’ll keep me wondering, won’t you?” Milo whispers. “I think you like it better that way.”
I nod without thought, feeling my chest rise and fall with each labored breath.
“Stand up, Killer.” He leans back, relaxing into his kneeling position. “Stand up and get back to work before I do something about that look on your face.”
Ihatemyself a little bit for it, but I immediately stand and aimlessly walk over to the other side of the room.
I am woman enough to admit to myself that I was momentarily weakened by a mustached man with a litany of dirty thoughts behind darkened eyes. But how could I possibly not be?
In sports, from my limited knowledge of them—my artistic parents were otherwise concerned—you play against teams or individuals of equal skill and ranking. I think the whole world would agree, if we took to polling them, that Milo and I are not of equal skill or ranking when it comes to romantic pursuits.
Maybe I’m judging him too harshly, as I tend to do. Maybe he’s more modest than his slutty little mustache, top, or general demeanor would have me—or anyone,surely—believe. But I’d be willing to bet it all that his number of sexual conquests isn’t zero, like mine. In fact, if I was betting on this game, I’d wager that his number, at some point or another, had two zeros in it.
I will not be going up against that type of opponent as a rookie. Idespiselosing.
When my eyes refocus, I find myself facing the shelving unit that’s littered with dried-up cans of paint and emptied sample sizes. I start sorting them, placing any that may be able to be saved on the left side of the highest shelf I can reach, where Milo instructed me to put them earlier.
With each minute that passes, my breathing settles, my face cools, and the ache between my legs that I’d refused to name begins to quell.
But then he has to go and speak again.
