“That smart mouth doesn’t sit well with me,” he licked his lips. His eyes never wavered from mine.
I nibbled on my lower lip, just as a small smile graced the edges of my mouth. Oh yeah, my bravado was about ready to kick some ass. I think I kind of liked being a smart ass.
“What are you going to do about it Jack?” I inhaled a breath, taking in his warm, delicious scent. My throat went even drier than before. I practically stared holes into his face as I studied every tiny mark, every single scar on his perfectly flawed skin. He was gorgeous, with a little scar here, a little white patch there. His hotness could have left me breathless for days if I kept up my perusal any longer.
And then I blinked, Christ. I knew exactly what had to be done. I had to kiss him. I had to get this itch scratched and then I had to move on. His eyes darkened, his breath was warm and heavy over my face, and he licked his lips. I blinked. Holy-balls… He wanted to kiss me too.
That ever-present electricity running between us wouldn’t stop. If anything, it only increased our pull. I moved in; his lips touching my lips was all I wanted. I needed to feel again, feel it all with a boy who hated me, but apparently wanted to kiss me as badly.
Dryness on dryness soon changed to warmth on warmth, and when I pressed my mouth fully to his, his hands left my neck, and went to my waist. His fingernails dug into my sides and the son of a bitch pushed me away from him.
So there I was, my head tilted to the side, ready, willing, and able to do whatever the hell this moment led us too, and all he could do was chuckle. Yes. Chuckle. He was the biggest rat bastard.