DAX: Fuck. No. That shit was on my dick for days last time!!
I snort a laugh and begin to type out a message when I feel a cool breeze graze the back of my neck.
“Personally,” Gray’s voice whispers low against my ear, “I’m a big fan of the black lipstick.”
“Holyshitballs!” My phone tips out of my hand and falls to the ground with a thunk. I spin so hard on my heels, I almost join it. “Jesus! What the fuck is with you and sneaking up on me like that?”
Gray straightens, a half-smirk playing across his perfect lips. “Sorry, darling,” he says, voice edging on teasing.
“Didn’t your mother teach you any fucking manners?” I frown, grabbing my phone from the ground and turning off the screen. The last thing I want is anyone else catching a glimpse of Dax’s erect dick.
“Clearly yours didn’t either,” he muses, gesturing toward my phone. He saw.
I flame with anger, but fall short of anything meaningful or witty. In fact, whatever I might have felt is completely snuffed out by the ten thousand flips my stomach is doing at the sight of him.
“Oh wow,” I mumble.
“Thoughts?” Jill asks from behind, carrying a load of clothing in both arms. Emma is with her, towing a few boxes of shoes and other things in bags I can’t see. “He’s got the body for anything, really, but I went with goth-chic.”
Of course she did. That’s her specialty.
“I have zero idea what she means,” Gray says, placing both hands in his fresh new pockets. “But I like the way she says it.”
Jill preens at that. “Mom always said I had a silver tongue.”
At least one of us is a wordsmith. I can’t work up the words to say anything at all, even though I have more than enough of them running circles in my head. The desiccating creature I'd encountered in the attic was gone. In his place was a tall, modern creature of the night. A real life vampire from one of my romance novels.
They dressed him in leather low cut pants, black leather Docs, and an ash-colored button up with rolled sleeves. He was beautiful before, even in Henry’s borrowed clothes, but in the right fit, he is the definition of devilish. From head to toe, he’s decked out in silver chains and chunky rings. I also spy a black obsidian piece on his thumb. A favorite of mine, similar to one I have back home. Something told me it was an intentional accessory.
“So? How’s our handiwork?” Emma comes up from behind, clearly phishing.
I swallow. He’s like a Peter Steele level rock star, but all I can manage is a strangled, “Good.”
“Good? Just good?” Emma scoffs at my lack of enthusiasm, and Jill snorts beside her, amused by her sister’s reaction. “You should be kissing my Docs. The man oozes female gaze. You gave us scraps, and we built you a Rolling Stone worthy cover model.”
“Scraps?” Gray asks.
“No offense,” she says quickly.
“Come on.” Jill wrangles Emma in with an arm around her neck, and steers her away. “We’re gonna go ring up your shit.”
“Cat got your tongue?” Gray chuckles. I can’t speak because I’m still shocked. It’s the vampire effect, I know that, but it’s a completely other thing to witness it myself. I have to force myself to look past him, otherwise my mind will wander back to the singular fantasy of licking that bit of his chest I can see peeking out from his half-buttoned shirt.
“That suits you.” I gesture stiffly. What I don’t say is that I could pick him apart with my eyeballs for the next several hours and never feel the need to blink.
“That’s a little underwhelming.” He fakes disappointment with a forced frown.
“I mean, I think you look really put together.” Hot. He looks hot.
“Do you? I think I’m missing something.” Gray crosses his arms, wearing mischief as well as he does those pants.
“What's that?”
“A few smudges of your lipstick.” He points to his neck and then cheek. “Here and here.”
My face heats, and I rush past him, bumping hard into his arm. His laugh follows me to the checkout, where the girls are both waiting. Boxes and bags line the counter, each of them stuffed full.
Emma walks away the minute she sees me. She is still clearly annoyed. Style is their combined passion, and while Jill is cool as a cucumber, Emma never fails to let anyone know how she feels when her feelings have been hurt. She’ll thaw, eventually.
