Page 14 of Dark Wishes

“I don't snore,” I say, leaning on the bed, not sure if I should stand or lie down. This guy throws off my whole perception of how to behave.

He makes a beeline for the light switch. “We should rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Sure. Okay.” Sitting on the bed with him watching me, I pull the covers loose, sliding underneath the silky material. It’s not too warm; his house has central air, which battles with the summer heat.

Once I’m lying flat, he flicks the switch and bathes the room in darkness.

For half a minute I hear nothing but my own breathing. It’s loud; my chest is fluttering from nerves.Don’t flip out, everything is fine. You’re just going to sleep.

Yeah. Just sleeping...

With a murderous hitman who tried to fuck me over his kitchen sink.

Clutching the blankets, I wriggle deeper into the mattress. Jamison hasn’t made a sound since turning off the light. I’m still alone in the bed with no clue what he’s doing. My nerves are on edge as I strain for any hint he’s still in the room.

His bed is better made than my shitty twin I keep on the bare floor of my apartment. When he sits on it, the mattress hardly rocks; I only know he’s there because of his presence. That warmed-over cider scent, the burning heat of his body as it enters my airspace.

“You don’t need to get so close,” I whisper.

His chuckle stirs the tiny hairs on my temple. “I’m not even touching you.”

“You nearly are.”

“There’s a vast difference betweennearlyand actually, Selena.”

Something nudges my ankle—his foot. I hold the air in my chest while he rolls his leg along mine in a gentle sawing motion.

“See?” he goes on, his voice a pool of darkness, “I’d think you’d know this by now.”

“What do you mean?” I hush.

I canhearhis smirk in his reply. “My hands were wrapped tight in your hair earlier. That was part of the problem, if I remember.” His weight adjusts on the bed, creating a dip that drags me in closer. I roll towards him, our hips colliding, shoulders bumping.

His skin is smooth on my forearm—my heart jolts violently.

He’s not wearing a shirt!

Jamison is topless, making me wonder how naked the rest of him is. I didn’t ask him if he slept nude; should I have? “You’re definitely too close now,” I croak.

“Yes,” he agrees simply. His foot rocks on mine again, tangling on my ankle, his heel pushing my leg into the bed. Heat drills through my bones; he's trying to start a fire with our limbs.

In the thick darkness of his bedroom every sound... every sensation... is heightened. I turn myself onto my left side, facing away, our legs still locked at the ankles. “Go to sleep,” I hiss.

There’s a small, surprised laugh in his throat. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I don’t know. Fucking with me.” Hugging my pillow I snap my eyes shut, hoping the extra level of privacy will let me block my awareness ofhim.But it’s pointless; his scent is all around us, a constant so strong I could reach out and grip it. “Do you flirt this hard with every girl you take home?”

Jamison is silent for a beat. “How many girls do you think I bring here?”

“I don’t have a clue. And I don’t really care.”

Right? Of course I don’t.

His ankle stops moving on mine. “If I was flirting, you’d know.”

A new ripple of warmth slides through my belly; I push my thighs together, and Jamison lets out a tiny growl. He noticed. “I told you earlier, we can’t—wewon’tdo anything.”

“You decided that.”

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