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“Okay then. No games.” With a sigh, I lean over the side and grab his drawing pad. “What have we here?”
“Cassie.”
“Are they your drawings? May I see?” I wait, conscious of the fact that six months ago I’d just have opened it and looked without asking.
He sighs, pushes back long strands from his face. He looks very tired, I realize with a start. Maybe it’s the way the lamplight falls on him, but I see dark circles under his eyes, and did he lose weight? Can’t remember his cheeks so hollow before.
“They aren’t very good,” he says at last and comes to
take the drawing pad away.
Aww. Pouting, I curl up again, lay my head on the armrest. “I bet they are. Saw some of your designs at the tattoo shop. They’re awesome.”
“You liked them?”
Why does he sound so shocked? “Of course I did.” I pat the sofa next to me. “Sit down. Make yourself at home.”
A soft snort escapes him. “You’ve taken over my fucking couch.”
“Language, young man.” I lift a hand, wag a finger at him. “And I don’t take up that much space.” I pat the cushion again. “Look.”
He finally sinks down beside me. My knee is touching his thigh, heat seeping through the contact. Feels nice. He’s so close I can see the fine dark stubble on his jaw, the softness of his mouth, the way his nostrils flare, and the shine of his silver dreamcatcher earring through his black hair.
We’ve never been anywhere alone like this. Never sat side by side. And oh boy, he’s even better looking from up close.
So not fair, when he’s not interested in sleeping with me at all.
Gah.
I’ve been trying to convince myself he looks at me, that there’s a spark of interest in his gaze that means he wants more from me, but then it’s gone again, and I’m left wondering if I’m losing my mind.
“Let’s watch something, then, if you don’t want to play games.” I make a grab for the remote on the coffee table. “Any preference?”
He shrugs. “Whatever. I’ll probably just fall asleep.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say, sticking my tongue out in concentration as I flip through the channels. “Betcha you can’t sleep through this.”
And I put on the Walking Dead.
Chapter Three
Shane
Not sure what the fuck’s going on. Cassie’s here, in my apartment, in my personal space, her knee pressing into my thigh, her long blond hair trailing over my arm, warm and ticklish. I should be freaking out, but strangely I’m not.
She’s sort of familiar, from all the time we’ve spent together at Halo. Although, I realize, I don’t really know her. Lots of hours spent over pool and with so much noise we could barely hear each other talk—which was fine by me.
Now, though… Now I wish I knew more about her. And I wish she was wearing a longer skirt, because her long legs are curled on the cushions, and if I let my gaze trail up her pale thighs, under the tiny skirt, I think I can see the sky-blue lace of her panties and…
I shift, my pants growing uncomfortably tight. Which is good. Fucking good that I can get it up again for a pretty girl, even if I can never go through with it. Even though it’s Cassie and I’m not what she needs.
She wants guys who will take her to bed for the night, satisfy her, calm down that bright energy she has. Guys who don’t have to think twice before having sex, who don’t freak out at the mere thought of pressing up naked against a chick and sinking into her pussy, pressing their face against her tits and...
Fucking hell.
Ow. Need to shift my dick before it breaks, but she’s sitting right beside me. Damn awkward, and the craziest thing is that I don’t wanna move. I kinda like how she’s curled up beside me, engrossed in that zombie series everyone is talking about, the kind of thing I never watch because it makes my nightmares worse, but hell, who cares about that right now?
I like having her close, her sweet vanilla smell winding around me like a vine. I can imagine her pale hair wrapped around my fist as I pull her head back and fuck her from behind, taking her—
