Jesus. I glance away and bite down on my lip, scrambling for any way to seem less like I’m, once again, hitting on him. Then I realize maybe I’m safe; maybe he doesn’t even know the double meaning of that particular word. I mean, he didn’t even know what a handshake was, right? Wary, I slowly turn my head back toward him, lifting my chin. I’m really hoping to find a confused look on his face. Unfortunately, what I find is anything but.
He’s definitely smiling now, the ridiculously cute dimple in full effect. The simple curve of his full lips is easy and honest, genuine. Bringing my gaze upward, I’m surprised when his eyes don’t match such a pure smile. No, there’s nothing pure about the dangerous, almost daring, spark dancing in the green flames. I don’t know if it’s my stubbornness, my desire to take on the unspoken challenge—whatever the hell that is—but I can’t look away.
“Go on.” The huskiness behind the gentle command slides down my skin like warm, thick honey. “You were telling me how hot I make you.” The corner of his lips hooks up again, smooth and slow.
“What?” I murmur, dazed-like, until I snap myself out of his spell and shake my head. Dammit. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
My eyes narrow. “You know what.”
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t totally know why I’m complaining. It’s not as though I don’t like the reactions he causes in my body, the quickening of my pulse, the warm sensations spiking low in my stomach—amongst other places. But I’ve never seen him blatantly flirt with me either, and there are too many sides to him for me to make sense of. In fact, that wasn’t just flirting. It was one step away from dirty-talk territory.
How exactly does one talk dirty with Death, anyway?
Shaking it off before my imagination can run wild with that one, I clear my throat. “Your turn. Put it on,” I urge, mindlessly tapping his knee with my hand. I know I just told him to shut up, but I can’t resist when I casually say, “Let’s see if you’re as hot as I am.”
His gaze lights up when it flicks to mine, but then he goes serious as he focuses on the ring in his hand. He slides it over his middle finger, like mine, but it won’t budge past the middle knuckle. His eyes are curious when he looks back at me, waiting for something to happen.
I nod toward his hand. “Keep your eyes on the ring. The stone.”
He obliges, and I have to lean closer to see the change this time. It’s so subtle as the black in his stone becomes the darkest possible shade of blue. He presses his lips together. “Do I want to know?”
I laugh softly, then glance down at the color chart to read it aloud. “Dark blue indicates romance or passion. Something electric is in the air if you see dark blue.”
Chapter 26
I’m chewingmy lip again when I lower the chart and turn back to him. Note to self: never buy a mood ring again. “Like I said, it doesn’t actually mean anything. Your ring turned dark blue because you’re impossibly ho . . .”—Nope, not making that mistake again—“Thermogenic.”
I grin, full and proud.That’s right. Good luck dirty-talking that one, mister.
A low, guttural sound bubbles up through his throat, past a smile that shows off a row of perfectly straight, white teeth that I’ve never seen on display before, his shoulders and chest shaking.Oh my god. He’s laughing. And it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard him make—that’s saying something. It’s a deep rumble, soft yet intoxicating, and it caresses everything from my ears to my neck, right through my chest, my stomach, until it hits the tips of my toes, literally making them curl.
After a beat, it quiets, his shoulders still shaking gently as he lets out a sigh. But it’s not a frustrated sigh, or even pensive, like the ones he’s given me before. It’s as close to carefree as I’ve ever seen from him. He runs a large hand through those thick strands of hair, then relaxes deeper into the seat, a hint of a smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth when he looks at me.
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “You should do that more.”
“What?”
“Laugh. It suits you.”
His expression turns thoughtful. “I don’t think I’ve ever done it before.”
“Never?”
He shakes his head, sticking one hand into the pocket of his jeans as he spreads his legs.
“Wow.” I don’t like seeing the way verbalizing that realization makes his face fall, so I let myself smile coyly, trying to lighten the mood. “So I’m the first girl to ever make you laugh, hmm?”
He angles his head toward me, looking at me long and hard. There’s nothing ‘light’ about the way he slowly says, “You’re the first girl to make me do a lot of things.”
A shiver runs down my back, and I’m pretty sure my heart actually skips a beat. There are so many things I can say to that, but I have no idea what direction to take this in.
The knock at the door makes me jump, before quickly filling me with relief. I’m off the hook. For now. “Just a second.” I push myself up from the loveseat and cross the room, already missing his warmth when I reach the door and pull it open.
Claire’s big, blue eyes meet my gaze, and I know something’s off. Even her smile can’t hide the broken look behind her expression. “Hey,” she says softly, “mind if I hang out here for a little bit before heading home?”
Shoot. I glance over my shoulder to see him watching us. He squints, rubs his chin, then motions to let her in. I arch a brow, and I mouth,You sure? After what happened last time I had a guest while he was present, I don’t know if this is such a good idea. But the corner of his lips tip up, eyes glimmering with something—amusement?—when he mouths back,You won’t even realize I’m here.
