Page 11 of Those Eyes, That Mouth

I lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting.

Nathan appeared in the doorway with a towel around his waist. Shirtless, bare feet. His hair was dark and heavy, slicked back from his face. Lamplight caught in droplets on his shoulders.

He went over to our dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled on white Calvin Klein briefs beneath the towel before dropping it. He was being weirdly modest considering we'd just been naked together.

We were Louis and Lestat in reverse. Nathan was blond and beefy. I was the dark, skinny one.

"Your hair looks cool like that," he said, nodding at my braids. "You should wear it like that sometime. Just like it is."

I didn't know what to do with that. I just mumbled, “Thanks.”

Nathan looked at himself in the mirror. "Should I blow-dry mine?”

"No. We're going for slicked back. It'll work better wet." I grabbed his Paul Mitchell gel. "Sit."

He dropped onto the desk chair, facing the mirror. I moved behind him and squeezed some into my palm.

"Don't use the whole tube," he said. "That shit's expensive."

My mom bought it for me. I'd never thought about what it cost.

I worked it through his hair, my fingers sliding against his scalp. He relaxed under my hands, his head tipping back slightly, his face going slack.

I pulled a comb through, slicking the hair straight back from his forehead to the nape of his neck. Even tooth marks. Perfect.

"Don't touch it. Let it dry just like this."

He opened his eyes and turned his head from side to side, studying himself in the mirror.

With his hair down, Nathan always looked boyishly handsome—a little dopey, unthreatening. But like this, his brow and jaw looked harder, more angular. His cheekbones stood out. His lips were really full.

He looked sexy.

In the mirror, both of us shirtless, me standing behind him... I looked away before he could catch me staring.

"Stand up," I said. "Turn the chair around."

He did it without question. There was something about how easily he did what I asked that made my throat tight.

I dragged the trunk over and sat on its edge, facing him. I was getting hard again. "Sit back down."

He sat. And when I scooted forward to get close enough to work on his face, my knee slid between his thighs. He didn't move his legs to make room. Just let my knee press against the thin cotton of his briefs. My other leg was outside his, our feet bracketed on the cold floor.

I reached out and put my hand on his knee. Just for a second. My palm against his warm skin, my thumb on the inside where the muscle curved. He didn't pull away. Just sat there, waiting.

I pulled my hand back.

“You’re not gonna be able to see what's happening," I said. "It’s gonna be a surprise. You’ll just have to trust me."

"Okay." He said it simply, willing to go along with anything I suggested.

I picked up the white cream makeup and the wedge sponge. "Close your eyes."

His lashes fluttered, and then settled.

I held his jaw with my free hand and tilted his face toward the lamplight. I waited for him to flinch, the way he had when Kelly tried to touch him at dinner. But he just let me guide him. I dabbed the pale base across his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. Blended it down his neck, under his jaw. I had to angle his chin up higher to get it right, and when I did, he swallowed. I watched his Adam's apple move.

My thumb was on his pulse point. I could feel it beating. Faster than I expected.