Page 57 of Spin The Bottle
I feel his hands on mine, slowly peeling my hands away from my face until I look up at him, he’s got a sympathetic smile on his face, and when I look up into his bright blue eyes, I swear my stomach does a little flip. I don’t like that, at all.
“Leila,” he starts, still holding onto my hands. “I wanted to break that guy’s face for talking to you.”
My brows furrow as I look up at him. Guy? What guy? I shake my head, remembering the guy from the bar. “That was nothing,” I tell him. “He was talking about the game. Said you were a legend.”
His brows raise. “He did?” He smiles when I nod. “And what about you?” he asks. “Did you see the game?”
I nod. “Of course, I did,” I tell him. “You were great.”
“Thanks, gorgeous.” He’s still holding onto my hands when he dips his head. “It doesn’t change things though,” he says. “Whether he was talking about me or not. I wanted to kill him for talking to you. You smiled at him. You never smile at me.”
I frown. “I do.”
He raises his brow. “Hardly,” he says. “It fucking killed me watching you smile at some stranger.” His hold tightens on my hands before he drops them and his hands find a home at my waist. “You’re not the only one who got jealous tonight.”
I don’t know why I like the idea of Aiden being jealous of another guy, even if it is just the guy from the bar who was drooling over Aiden. It feels good knowing I’m not alone in this. “What does this mean?” I ask him. “We had rules.”
He shrugs, his hands running down my waist. “It doesn’t matter what we said. Your feelings can change at any time.”
“No.” I shake my head, hating those words and how my heart thumps when he says them. “No, they can’t.”
“Why are you against relationships?” he asks me, holding his hands up when he sees my eyes widen at his question. “I’m not putting pressure on you. That’s not what’s happening. I just wanted to know why you’re so against them.”
“That’s not important.” I close my eyes, trying to erase the image of my ex-boyfriend from my mind. “This isn’t a relationship.”
“Right,” he says, his hands drifting down to my lower back. “Just fucking, right?”
I wrap my arms around his neck, loving how his eyes fall to my lips, licking his own. “Just fucking.”
He squeezes my hips, pulling back. “And you’re asking me to be exclusive?” he asks. “Because I don’t have a problem with that, Leila.”
I blink. “You don’t?”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t been with anyone else since that spin the bottle game.”
I breathe out a laugh, knowing that’s complete bullshit. “You don’t need to lie to me.”
He pulls back, frowning. “I’m not lying,” he says. “The only lips I’ve tasted since are yours.”
I shake my head, unable to believe what he’s telling me. “How is that even possible? You get so much attention every day. Did you even see the group of girls around you out there?” I ask, gesturing towards the door.
“I saw them,” he says with a lift of his shoulder. “But it was you I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. I don’t want anyone’s attention but yours.”
My heart stops. It skips a beat at his words. I don’t want to get attached. I promised myself I wouldn’t let it happen again, that I wouldn’t be hurt again. But it’s so hard to forget every reason when he’s in front of me telling me these things.
“Leila,” he says, leaning into me. “We’re fucking exclusive. No doubt about it.” He sighs. “The thought of another guy’s hands on you makes me want to rip out their throats. I need to know I’m the only one touching you, kissing you.” His hand reaches up and grabs my face, smoothing his thumb over my cheek. “Fucking you,” he whispers, dipping his head, flattening his tongue against my neck. “I licked you,” he says. “You’re mine.”
Those words make me shiver, staring up at him. “I’m not yours.”
His brows raise, an amused smirk on his lips. “Don’t even try it, gorgeous. We both know you’re mine.” His hands run down my body, flattening his palms against the curve of my ass. “Say it,” he tells me. “Tell me no one else touches you.”
I gulp, his touch making me weak. My brain wants to rebuff, to tell him he has no hold on me, but when those eyes look down at me, I know he’s right. “No one else touches me,” I tell him. “Only you.” I lick my lips, my brain screaming at me not to say what I’m about to say. But it’s already too late. “I only want your hands on me.”
He wastes no time, leaning down and bringing his lips to mine in a desperate kiss. His lips brush against mine, moaning into my mouth when his tongue wraps around mine. This kiss is fast and punishing. It’s so good. It’s always so good.
“You taste like beer,” he mumbles against my lips.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” I pull back, remembering how he told me he doesn’t drink. But he keeps his hold on me, shaking his head.
