I’m ashamed to say that I shift on my feet at his tone, at thefondnessin it. At the familiarity, and I struggle against his hold. “Let me go.”
His ruby red lips twitch and his hooded eyes rove over my face and stop at my lips.
That I have to lick because he won’t stop staring.
“What’s this one?” he whispers.
I lick my lips again as a blush fans over my cheeks. “None of your business.”
He looks up and there’s amusement lurking in his gaze. “Are you trying to hide it? The name.”
“No.”
A full-fledged smirk overcomes his lips then. “Fae’s getting shy, isn’t she?”
“Stop…” I struggle against his hold again because my blush is burning my cheeks. “Let me go, Reed.”
He flexes his grip around my hands and I try very hard — as I’ve been doing for the past few minutes —not to feel his grip, feel his skin, the pads of his fingers, the meat of his palm.
The fact that there’s only a sliver of distance between our bodies.
“Not until you tell me.”
I glare at him and he chuckles again.
“Fine,” I say. “Sex and Candy.”
It’s green, dark and pretty, and when I wore it, it felt like the right choice, wearing something green. Because Ifeltgreen, all untrained and inexperienced.
But now I don’t think it’s a good thing, feeling so out of depth in my white dress and dark green lipstick.
Especially when the mere name of my lipstick makes him grow heated.
Especially when I can feel that heat running through my own veins. Because I’m trapped now, between him and the tree, and he’s got a hold of my arms as he stares down at me.
All hungry and intense.
“Sex,” he drawls.
“Andcandy,” I tell him to make a point.
“Because your lips taste like candy?”
“You’ll never know, will you?”
His wolf eyes glow. “I already do, remember?”
Yes.
Idoremember.
Although I don’t want to. Although this is one memory I try not to bring up when I’m punishing myself for falling in love with him.
That night. The rain. His mouth. His Mustang with foggy windows.
“No,” I whisper.
“Yeah, you do,” he counters. “You remember everything. Like I do.”
