Page 378 of The First Taste
I catch my hair behind my head and tie it back in a low ponytail. Looking down at my hands, I catch myself thinking that something has fundamentally changed. Something essential. Something important.
But what that thing might be, I can’t say.
Flexing both of my hands, I expel a breath. I have to talk to Persephone.
I should explain why what we did — what almost happened between us? That was a terrible choice.
For both our sakes, I have to keep my eyes on the prize and watch for any sign that we might have caught outside attention.
That’s the most important thing. It also happens to be what I am best at.
Pushing my cheek out with my tongue, I stalk over to the work area. Persephone looks up, her eyes narrowing. She doesn’t stop her task, standing paintbrushes upright and shoving them into mason jars.
I narrow my eyes on her hands. She is sorting the brushes by some mysterious method. Every once in a while, she stops, holds a brush up to the light. Then she makes some decision about it, sorting it into one of two piles.
The two piles seem almost identical to me. My lips flatten into a thin line as I walk up to the worktable, folding my arms and cocking my hip to rest against it.
She’s doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. Just glares at a pile of paint brushes like they have personally offended her.
I gesture for her to take out her earbuds. Persephone slows, taking one earbud out but leaving her music cranked up.
“Yes?” she asks. She is very careful not to look at me.
“We need to talk,” I say. I lean over, planning on pulling her other earbud from her ear. But she rears up, catching my hand and pushing it away.
She takes a big step back. “I’m working. Can it wait?”
Tensing my jaw, I shake my head. “No.”
Persephone finally gives me the eye roll I’ve been expecting and turns off her music.
“What’s so important that it can’t wait a few hours?”
I don’t like this side of Persephone. She crosses her arms, hiding beneath another oversized sweater, and looks at her nails. She seems… disinterested in hearing what I have to say.
Clenching my fists, I pin her with my gaze.
“I think we can both agree that what happened earlier was a mistake.”
Her nostrils flare. She sucks her teeth, pissed off. “Yep.”
“I think it would be better if we kept our distance. I’ll move my bed over to the other side of the room?— “
She waves a dismissive hand at me. “Whatever you say.”
I dart my tongue out, running it slowly along my upper lip. Persephone is intentionally looking anywhere but at me, which is driving me fucking nuts.
I don’t dare touch her to get her full attention, though. There’s something between us, some spark, that threatens to ignite every time I get close to this woman.
“Look. It was bound to happen. Two very attractive people. Close quarters. A volatile situation.” I shrug, my chest tight.
She sends me a defiant, haughty look. “It’s not as if I had a choice, is it?”
I glare at her. “Ye have never come so hard in yer fucking life. Don’t pretend that ye didn’t love every fucking second of it.”
She crosses her arms, her face going red. She pushes her cheek out with her tongue and doesn’t respond.
I wave a hand. “All I’m saying is, I don’t want to repeat it.”
