Page 49 of Vipers & Roses

His eyebrows drop low over his eyes. “Lucy?”

“Yeah, who sat at our table at the swim team dinner? The girl with long blond hair who was your friend Josh’s date,” I explain, finding it weird that he doesn’t know who Lucy is.

“Ah, you mean Lu?” he croons. “Yeah, she’s on the team.”

“I know, but how well do you know her?” I ask.

“I don’t know. We’ve had conversations. I see her most days at training, so…” he shoots me a curious look. “Wait. Are you jealous?”

“What? No. You’re barking up the wrong tree,” I try to convince him, but he’s on a different wavelength here.

“Are you worried that Lu and I might, you know….have a thing,” he teases to get me going.

“No,” I snap, annoyed. “If you want to do that. I can’t stop you, can I? Be my guest,” I dare him smugly. “Stop pursuing me and go after Lu.”

He holds his intense gaze for a few seconds while I stare back, showing hostility, making it clear that he doesn’t intimidate me. The challenge is set. The first one to look away is the loser.

“Why would I want Lu when I’d much prefer the killer temptress before me,” he says smoothly.

I flinch at his choice of words but refuse to look away, even for a split second. “Temptress?” I purse my lips, flaring my nostrils, enjoying this battle of wits very much.

“Yeah,” he states confidently and assuredly, combing his fingers through his short, brown hair but still holding his stare. I think ‘killer temptress’ perfectly sums you up. And as I’ve said before, I don’t have much spare time, so I like to use my time wisely.”

Tantalizing quivers travel down my thighs, and I swallow over a lump in my throat. “Do you think you’ve got me in the bag? Done deal. Prize won.”

“Well, you’re here right now, so…” a rare smile worms across his face as he shrugs those impressive shoulders under a snug white T-shirt.

“Because I’m hungry,” I hit back, as my eyelashes have their own mind, fluttering flirtatiously again.

His tongue runs over the inside of his cheek while his eyes twinkle in delight. His short brown hair is still shiny and wet from his shower, and he smells of soap and cologne. “Hungry?” he cocks his eyebrows.

“For food,” I inform him, still holding my gaze and refusing to lose this fight. “Just in case you interpret my answer as something else.”

He rubs his cleanly shaven jaw with his fist, still holding his stare. I refuse to let him win, so instead of looking down for a bacon strip on my plate, I feel with my hand until I find one and bring it to my lips.

“By the way, you’ve got maple syrup all over your hand,” he points out, hoping I’d break my stare.

“I’m fully aware of what’s on my hand because I can feel the stickiness,” I explain, licking my hand and noticing his hungry pupils dilate in desire.

“Stay the night with me,” he states boldly. Nerves strike me hard and roll about nauseatingly, dragging fear out of every cell of my body to dance to my joy. I hate this. I really fucking hate my fear dictating everything.

Without thinking, I drop my eyes because I can’t look at him when talking about something so painful, and I don’t care if I lose the battle. I’m scared of how sex will physically feel, the penetration, and having a heavy weight on top of me, being held down. My chest tightens as those baby blues read my face and disappointment washes over him.

“I just…” I sigh, avoiding his eye and struggling to find the words. “It’s been a while. And that sounded like a demand, not a question.”

“What do you mean, it’s been a while?” those eyebrows set low to accompany that penetrating stare.

“I haven’t done it for a while, and we’re rushing things. We only just met,” I explain. “It was only last week when you scolded me in the swimming pool.”

“How long? How long has it been since…” he waves his hand as there is no need to finish the sentence.

“Two years.”

He balks, screwing his face up, “Two years. That must be by choice. You’re seriously one of the hottest chicks I’ve ever seen. Why-”

His phone vibrates on the wooden table, and I startle, pleased that we have a distraction until I notice the name flashing on the screen. THORN. Cormac snatches the phone and holds it up, reading the message, then turns to look behind him at the front window again. I can’t see anyone of interest, but then I don’t know who he’s looking for.

As I continued to eat, he replied to the message, and once he was done, he put the phone back on the table. “Sorry about that.”

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