“Right on the lips,” I whispered as I started to pace, even though, technically speaking, he didn’t really have lips. At least, he hadn’t had them at the time of my forwardness.
At the same time, he’d sure blown all the dud-muffins I’d ever kissed before out of the water.
Cover to cover, that kiss had been ashotas his soul was cold.
And those unyielding teeth under my lips—they hadn’t moved, but they’d still sent one hell of a zing through me. Just like the rest of his teasy, deep freeze-y, scorched-earth, end-of-the-world essence.
Talk about a wild ride.
“I cannotbelieveI made out with death,” I mumbled, pacing again before tossing my bra back onto the couch.
Apparently, I hadn’t been able to help myself after spending half the nightflirtingwith him. Flirting with himagain.
“I hit on death,” I muttered, heading straight for my kitchen. Because I needed tea. No, coffee. “I straight up hit on death.ThenI made a move on him.”
Had he made a move back? I still couldn’t say.
Well, if my history with guys had taught me anything: If he hadn’t already stopped calling, he certainly would now, wouldn’t he?
Speaking of now, what time was it anyway? Heck, what day was it?
“Oh, shoot,” I said, glancing at the oven clock, which read 6:28.
God help me, I hoped that meant 6:28 in the morning, and that I hadn’t slept through work. My shift started at eight, and the library opened at nine.
My phone. I needed my phone.
I hurried back into my room, tripping over my unicorn house slippers along the way. I scoured my pumpkin purse but found nothing. But Grim had given me back my phone… hadn’t he?
Maybe Ihadsomehow dreamed the whole thing. The whole night. Except that couldn’t be.
As I left my room again, I once more pressed my fingers to my lips, the sensation of that death’s-head grin still inscribed there. As I stared out into space, I shifted my hand once again back to my heart, which had yet to settle, because it remembered things, too.
The way he’d flooded me like that, his whole spirit descending upon me, doing things to me—to mine.
My cheeks flared anew at the memory, the way his ice had clashed with my fire, the two of us, I was pretty sure, spiritually sprinting to second base.
Now my hand went to my brow becausewhat?
I could hardly understand what had happened—only that he hadn’t recoiled in disgust or affront when I’d done what I had, which is exactly what I’d feared would happen. I hadn’t expected him to return my gesture. Was that what he’d done?
He’d certainly donesomething. And I’d certainly enjoyed all of it—the way those tendrils had infiltrated and wound me, cooled and teased me, scoured me in a way I wasn’t sure I could go without.
That thought brought more heat to my face, my cheeks flaming now.
What, exactly, had we done? And why, if I had to die, couldn’t I pick the method?
I’d choose him and our shadow-and-sunshine tango for sure. And if he were here right now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold back from telling him as much.
“Omigod,” I muttered to myself, tempted to start pacing again, “I have a crush on him.”
Maybe that was an understatement at this stage. Because, if Iwas being honest with myself, I’d had a crush on him on that damn balcony. The elevator episode had given me palpitations in more ways than one, and then when he’d cursed at me like that while pushing ninety?
Well, that had been the nail in the coffin I apparently wanted to roll around with him in.
“This can’t be a healthy reaction to knowing you’re going to die,” I whispered to myself, once more going in search of coffee. But then, maybe I still had some vodka in the freezer? Because if I was still going to make it into work and wasn’t fired as well as being on death row, I’d have to call an Uber anyway.
Somewhere nearby, my phone alarm went off.
