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Cheap Heat

Page 66

by Lily Mayne

There was only around half an hour left of the movie, and we watched it in complete silence.

I didn’t understand why he was still here. This wasn’t exactly fun. It was like we were the only two people in a movie theatre—total strangers who happened to have sat right next to each other.

When the credits started rolling, Ewen stretched and leaned forward to grab our glasses off the coffee table. He handed me mine, and I flinched when his arm brushed against my skin as he sat back.

I took a tiny sip as he gulped down half his glass, and I tensed up even more when I sensed him glancing over at me.

Then he finally spoke. And said the words I’d been dreading all day.

“Rafe…” Ewen looked down at his glass, running his thumb through the condensation. “I know you remember what happened last night.”

Panic streaked through me, making my vision briefly white out. I hurriedly started gulping down water and mumbled, “Nuh-uh,” into my glass like a child.

He chuckled. I could sense him watching me again, and my pulse started hammering when he shifted around slightly to face me better.

“Look, when you tried to—”

“I should go to bed,” I blurted, shoving the blanket off and leaning forward to thump my glass down onto the coffee table. I grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “Still feeling kinda rough.”

He huffed in amusement. “So are we never gonna talk about it?”

Talk about me drunkenly admitting I’d been watching him suck himself off and getting off to it myself, then trying to kiss him and him having to reject me?

Uh, no. Fuck no. We were never, ever going to talk about it.

“I’d really rather not,” I said stiffly, standing up and shoving back my hair. I was too tense and embarrassed to even appreciate how soft and silky it felt, all freshly dyed.

Ewen rose from the couch too. “Why not?”

I turned off the lamp beside the couch, knowing I was being a rude asshole. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking talk about it. I was too humiliated.

Ewen laughed when I ignored the question. “Aw, come on, handsome.”

“Don’t call me that,” I gritted out. His teasing felt even shittier now, because it seemed more personal. He knew I was attracted to him. I’d tried to fucking kiss him. Calling me handsome was just his way of making me feel stupid.

“You really suck at taking compliments, huh?”

My headache was returning as blood rushed to my face. When I turned off the other lamp, plunging us into darkness, I heard Dan laugh.

“Damn, Rafe. Didn’t your momma ever teach you about southern hospitality?”

“We’re not from the south, so no.” I sighed and scrubbed a hand over my face, aware I was being a dick. “Look, thanks for… the food and helping out with the hair dye, but I do still feel like shit. And I have work tomorrow. So…”

After a long, agonising pause, he chuckled. “Sure. Okay.”

Shoulders sagging in relief, I headed for the hallway to show him out. I could hear him approaching slowly, and I felt a little bad for turning off the lights. As a ghoul, I could see perfectly well in the dark, but I didn’t know if the same was true for Ewen.

God, I really was an asshole.

“Can I just say one thing, at least?” he asked.

For some reason, I stopped. I had no idea why—I was so clenched up and tense and embarrassed that my shoulders were practically touching my ears—but I stopped and waited.

My breath caught when a warm hand lightly touched my arm, just long enough to encourage me to turn and face him. I stared up at Ewen, unnerved and terrified and weirdly excited by how close he was. How much bigger he was than me.

“I just wanted to say…” He gave me a tiny crooked grin that made my pulse leap, then lifted an arm and rested it on the doorframe beside me. Suddenly, his huge bicep was right there, just inches from my face. I could see the tuft of hair in his armpit. I could smell his skin and a hint of clean sweat. My nuts tightened in response.

“If you hadn’t been drunk last night, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he said, his voice sounding even deeper and huskier in the dark. “I would’ve kissed you.”