Though why he would choose to do such a nightmarish thing was still largely unclear. All she knew at that moment was that his thigh was jammed between hers, and his hand was still on her waist, and that the only light around them was a thin sliver from the room beyond, illuminating only the most utterly terrible parts of him.
Like the gleam of one wolfish eye, and the slash of his meaty jaw, and the curve of his collarbone, and the slant of thick muscle just below, and and and—
“Seth, I have to get out of here right now,” she blurted out.
But instead of listening, he just seemed to go rigid.
Then for some ungodly reason, he put a hand over her mouth.
Though the reasonwhyhe did it didn’t really matter. Even when she heard voices from down the hall, loud and brash—and obviously belonging to the Jerk Squad—she couldn’t really care. Every bit of her focus was on only one thing, now:
That his hand was so big it spanned the whole lower half of her face.
All she could feel were his thick fingers, pressing into her lips, her cheeks, her chin. She could barely breathe because of it. And even when he let up enough for her to, things didn’t get any better. Because now she could feel where his other hand was.
It had her by the nape of her neck.
Fingers under her hair, in her hair, almost tangled in it.
As if he was about to do something more than encourage her silence, it seemed like.
And he knew it. She could see it in his eyes, the moment he glanced away from the sliver of light, and back to her. There it was—that deep understanding of how much he was touching her. And how little he could stand it.
It was the reason he jerked away, despite the risk of noise.
Then he actually wiped his hands on his shirt. Like he could get the feel of her off him by doing so. Even though that was ridiculous, this was all ridiculous,whyhad he done this? They had the means to fuck those assholes up, he knew they did—and if he had somehow forgotten, well, she was going to tell him so. She raisedher fists. Mimed fighting them. Tapped the spray bottle she always kept at her hip now.
But he shook his head sharply. Looked frustrated.
More, he mouthed. And though it took her a second, she got what he meant.
It wasn’t just the original three Jerks. They had others with them. At least five others, if the hand Seth held up was any indication. And now she could make out their raised voices more clearly, and they weren’t saying anything good.
“Look, Hannigan isn’t gonna help us. He’s too busy with his crusade against that fucking librarian. So this is our best option. And it’ll work too, I know it will. Once we have it, we can get that fat witch,” she heard Jason say, and immediately had so many questions she almost blurted them out. It took a lot of restraint to limit her reaction to whipping a look at Seth, and mouthingwhat do they want?andwhat will the thing they want do?andfuck fuck fuck.
Though of course he couldn’t answer her. The Jerks were very close now.
So close, in fact, she had to wonder why they couldn’t smell Seth. All she could imagine was that the blocker masking her was also masking him, or that the magic lube was maybe stepping in, becausegodhe was a riot of different scents, to her. She could make out strawberry bubblegum, and the airy sweetness of whatever soap or shampoo or deodorant he used, and then underneath it—something heated. Something familiar.
Perspiration, she thought it was—because his skin was lightly sheened with it.
She could see it gleaming in the darkness.
But part of her knew that was wrong. It was a heavier, sultrier scent. Like a stronger, more obvious version of what she’d smelled in her closet that time. Like the kind of thing that filled a room, after you’d spent five hours fucking the living daylights out of someone.
Even if she didn’t want to admit that this was the case.
She tried to shrug it off. To focus on the problem at hand.
But it was very difficult to when he felt so boiling hot against her. When that heat seemed to be sliding into her and drowning out all other thoughts. When the curve of his throat was right there, and it was glossy with sweat, and if she just leaned forward and stuck out her tongue—
“Cassie,” he hissed.
Too loudly, she knew.
The sound froze them both in place, eyes locked. His searching hers with a kind of agonized confusion, hers no doubt hazy with whatever fucking delirium she seemed to be descending into. And then they just had to wait in that position. To see if anyone had heard, to see if anything would happen.
Even though waiting was impossible.
