Page 45 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
I point at her and purse my lips. “You, go check on Kara and Abbi.”
She hops off her stool, wearing a giant pout. As soon as she gives us her back, I turn my attention to Thane, who licks my freaking palm.
Licks it.
I’m so shocked, I don’t even move. My hand stays pressed to his lips as though I’ve turned to stone. Licking my hand seems like the least Thane-like thing he’s done to date.
“D—did you lick me?”
He does it again, and this time I drop my hand, wiping it off on his thigh and instantly regretting it. The man has muscles for his muscles, and now I can’t stop envisioning what his thighs could do to me.
I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Even at sixteen, when I thought Jamar Holioak was the hottest boy in the entire world and I’d die if he didn’t ask me out, I wasn’t fantasizing about his body parts or him licking me.
This is moving too fast. That’s what’s happening here. He’s been here for all of two weeks. I know we’re a near-perfect match, something that really shouldn’t be possible, and it’s that knowledge that’s messing with my head. Nothing more.
Thane leans into my space, and I frown.
“What?” I didn’t mean to snap, but I can’t be trusted when he’s this close. If I don’t fully understand my bodily reactions to him, how the heck am I supposed to explain it to anyone else?
“Disgusted or disappointed? And before you answer, would you like to know the only useful thing my father ever taught me?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Thane gently sweeps my long brown hair over my shoulder, and his warm breath hits my ear. “He taught me how to spot a liar. He is a master of the craft, after all. So keep that in mind before you lie to me. Though the punishments for lying could be fun…for me.”
His chuckle is deliciously menacing. Damn. Wounded, dark, a little twisted, and hot? No wonder he’s my perfect match.
He sits upright in his own space as Jenni takes her post at the desk, still fanning herself. Idiot. I love her, but she’s an idiot.
“Now answer my question,Charlotte.”
“My father calls me Charlotte,” I hiss.
He may not hear tone, but he’s a master of studying my face. His gaze scans every inch, from my hairline down to my chin before finally resting on my eyes.
“Charlotte has bad memories attached to it,” he says, nodding as if he’s answered his own question. “You’ll help me with Kara, and I’ll help you learn to crave hearing your name. Now for the final time, disgusted or disappointed?”
He’ll what?
He never glances away, never blinks, doesn’t even appear to breathe as he waits for my answer. He’s so high-handed I should smack him for his audacity, but I can’t find it in myself to be offended. I’m in serious trouble here.
And I know in that moment, he’s telling the truth—he’ll know when I lie. So as my face burns brightly, I lower my chin and answer the only way I can—with honesty. “Disappointed.”
“Lottie, look!” Kara bounces into the waiting room, not picking up on the tension, and spins in a circle—the epitome of happy little girl.
“Oh, honey. It’s amazing. Doesn’t she look beautiful, Thane?”
Slowly, he drags his gaze from the side of my face to his sister. “You’re always beautiful, Kara. My apologies if I don’t make that fact known more often.”
Her chin quivers, and she wrings her hands in front of herself. “Abbi said I have wavy hair and there’s special stuff for it. Can I get it?”
Thane nods. “Whatever you need.”
Her face lights up as she bounces to the counter, but I can’t unsee how Thane is watching her. It may confuse him, but he loves his sister in ways he probably never thought himself capable of. It’s obvious every time he faces her.
“You’re good for her, you know.”
He swallows hard. “And you’re disappointed. It would appear I have more than one girl to make up with.”
