But he’s not.
He’s the opposite.
And he’s staring at me like he wants to eat me.
So I stop checking him out like a lovesick Bella and say, “Are you sure she’s safe though? Your baby. In this neighborhood.” I shake my head in mock concern. “People can be very dangerous.”
My words only amuse him and his lips – soft and red in contrast to his marble-skin – stretch up slightly. “Can they?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think they’ll do?”
Drown it in the lake again.
But I don’t say it.
For one, I can’t believe my plan to ruin his baby forever didn’t work. Maybe I should’ve thought of something else, something more damaging than driving it into the lake. But then I wasn’t thinking at all when I decided to destroy it.
I was fucking furious and in pain.
“I don’t know, steal it? Again.” I clench my fingers around the neck of the whiskey bottle. “Slash your tires. Steal your rims. Spray paint your hood. Smash your windows. Douse the whole thing with liquor and burn it down once and for all.”
His amusement only grows. “That’s… quite a creative list.”
“I’m creative.”
“And definitely dangerous.”
“Oh, you’re in for such a surprise, trust me.”
“Does it come with a little bow tied around it? Your surprise.”
His eyes aren’t on my face when he says it or purrs it actually. They are somewhere down below. On my stomach, to be exact. And after a second, I realize why.
It’s because my dress has a bow wrapped around my waist.
It’s a lacy thing, my dress. White and covered in embroidered blue flowers that ends mid-thigh, paired with matching blueballet flats. When I put this on earlier tonight, I thought it was girly and cute and perfect for a secret night out with my friends.
But right now, with the way he’s staring at my bow and the ruffled hem that skims my bare thighs, my cute dress turns into something indecent.
Something that you wear behind closed doors. Something that’s meant to be stared at and devoured and ripped to shreds by a guy whose intentions are as dark as his skin is glittering.
Perv.
“No, it comes with long nails and sharp teeth,” I tell him with a sweet, mocking smile and a chirpy voice.
He lifts his eyes and drawls, “Well then I’ll be over here, sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting to unwrap it.”
Okay, I lied. Again.
I can’t do this. I can’t sound casual and breezy and unaffected. When he is being so purposefully intense.
I don’t know what his game is, but I want him gone. And the only way to make it happen is to find out what he wants. Why he sought me out.
Knowing him, he came here to ruffle my feathers, make me squirm. Which is fine. Really.
Let him do what he came here to do.
