Page 45 of The Night Shift
I take a step forward and she draws in a breath. My gaze wanders to her hair. The short, silky spirals from the curve of her neck to the shell of her ear. She pulls the strap up and we make eye contact. It lingers, both waiting for the other to look away. But the longer the moment lasts, the harder that gets.
I don’t ever want to look away.
I want to rip that damn strap off and push her up against this door. I want to bend my head down and suck on her nipple and watch her head loll back in pleasure as I gradually move to her neck. I want to kiss her until she’s sighing and whimpering underneath my touch, begging me to take her right fucking here. I want her to say my name. I want her toscreamit. I want to make her come.God, I want to make her come more than I want to breathe —
“Holly!” A shrill voice from inside the flat interrupts our stand-off. Holly instantly backs up a few paces, her gaze not meeting mine anymore.
Dammit.
“You’re not going to believe this! My dress has pockets —” April pauses, dressed head to toe in white. Her wedding dress, I presume. “Theo? What are you doing here? I thought you and Parker were taking Dog to KittyCon.”
And just like that, the moment is ruined.
“Yeah, he sort of clawed through his cape so we just ended up going to Taco Bell instead.” Leave it up to Hayden Parker to find a Comic Con for his cat (yes, his cat named Dog) and drag me to it.
April frowns. “Why are you standing outside?”
“You have an impeccable guard dog.” I point to Holly.
She scoffs. “Too scared to call me a bitch?”
“Just trying to think of a word you don’t hear on a daily basis.”
“How considerate.”
I touch my chest. “For you, always.”
“Drop dead.”
“Well done. Thatalmosthurt my feelings.”
“We can rectify that.” She takes a step in my direction and April grabs her arm, pulling her to the side.
“Theo, please come in,” she says, offering me an apologetic smile. Holly flips me off. “Stop it.” April smacks her hand down.
Grinning, I walk inside the apartment. April is probably the only person on the planet who can cause Holly bodily harm and walk away with her fingers intact. Despite the stark contrast in their personalities — one being a hyperactive ball of sunshine straight out of a Pixar movie and the other being, well, Holly — the two sisters get along surprisingly well. Their relationship fascinates me.
Hooking her arm around Holly’s, April drags her toward the living room. “Is Parker downstairs?”
Holly’s nose curls up at the sound of his name. They don’t get along. Unlike the glaringly obvious foreplay-based banterbetween the two of us, Parker and Holly fight like toddlers on crack. I don’t comprehend it, but I do enjoy it.
“He’s just grabbing some stuff from my car. Should be up in a minute.” I sit on their couch, frowning at April’s wedding dress. “Although, I’m not sure he’s supposed to see you in that just yet.”
The bride-to-be’s smile vanishes into thin air, and she looks down.
“Oh, don’t fucking listen to him,” Holly chimes in, searing holes into my forehead. “I already told you that’s an outdated and misogynistic tradition.”
“Misogynistic?” My question is solely out of politeness. The tradition of grooms not seeing brides in their wedding dresses started because of arranged marriages. The parents of the bride were afraid that if the groom saw her before the wedding, he would break the arrangement. So yes, it is extremely outdated and misogynistic.
But I want to listen to Holly explain it to me. My murderous little know-it-all.
“Back when marriages were arranged…” she starts, and I tip my chin down to suppress the incoming grin. Listening to Holly when she’s all riled up and trying to prove a point is better than watching her spill blood.
The way her eyes light up, alive and dancing, like nothing else matters. Or how she sometimes moves her hands around as if they play a vital role in winning Petty Argument of the Day. My personal favourite is the adorable nose scrunch she does every two seconds.
Everything about this woman drives me crazy.
She has me wondering what it would feel like to be absolutely ruined by her. Has she fantasized about killing me? It’s possible. Would she stab me to death? Or would she slit open my throat? Maybe she’d strangle me. Hmm. That could be fun. Intimateeven. Her fingers wrapped around my neck, choking me while she sits on top, straddling my waist.
