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I lick my lips, trying to force some moisture back to my mouth. Now he’s mad again, thinking I’m hurt worse and not wanting him to know. That would be easier, I think.
“No, nothing, it–there’s, it’s nothing?” I say. He raises a brow at my stammering, so to fix it, I just keep going, showing him his T-shirt again. “Can, um. So. To wear this, I need to take these other clothes off.”
He presses his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “Yes.”
“Okay, we agree,” I say. “So…”
He nods, watching me, waiting for me to get myself together. His hand on my thigh is helping nothing. Have his hands always been this big?
“So, you’re good with that.”
“Lucy.”
“Complete sentences,” I huff, “right. Are you, Ghost, giving me permission to take my clothes off, while you’re here?”
His chest expands on a breath, his bright eyes darkening ten shades. It’s that same expectant look from right before I rushed into the bathroom. The same face as when he kissed me. Not angry, but not playful, either, he—
Oh.
Oh, heaven help me.
“Permission?”
I nod jerkily, trying not to whine. Desire. That’s what it is. He wants me.He needs me.“Yes, sir. Do I have permission?”
He draws one of those steadying breaths again and nods, his grip subconsciously tightening on my leg, flaring the pain under my bruise back to life. “Yes, Lucy, you have my permission.”
My lower lip is swollen from chewing it to death, but it’s all that’s keeping me from falling right off the bed. I mimic his breaths now, temporarily forgetting how to take a shirt off in a non-stupid way. I end up tearing out of it, messing my hair up spectacularly, and holding it in my lap like the awkward mess I am.
Ghost holds out his hand, his fingers twitching ever so slightly, and I’m not sure if it’s exhaustion, or seeing me topless in his bed. I give him the shirt and push my hair off my face, straightening my spine and waiting to see if he’ll take off running.
He stands, but doesn’t bolt for the door, so I’m calling it a win. He folds my shirt haphazardly and tosses it somewhere deep in his closet, before stalking back over to me, his thighs bumping my knees when he pauses in front of me.
I part my legs again, but he doesn’t push between them like he did on the counter. He’s more present now, his eyes focused, more awake than he’s been this whole time.
For many, many selfish reasons, this is disappointing.
“When did you start calling meSir?”
“First night,” I say, slipping my arms up his soft green shirt. “By the sink, when I was trying to show you my back and you freaked out—”
Something light flops on the bed next to me. “I did notfreak out.”
“But you did.” My hair gets caught in the neck and I huff, working to untangle myself from inside the shirt. “I’m still not sure I know why, but, I figured out you center when I’m being po—”
I pop out the top of his shirt and the words die in my throat, nothing more than a breathy noise escaping. Ghost keeps his eyes on me while he unbuttons his black shirt, pausing only a moment to make sure I’m okay.
“—lite.” I swallow. “Polite.”
His mouth kicks up in a smirk, his brows rising smugly as his shirt falls open. He’s got a white tank under the button up, thin enough I can make out the lines of his chest, his stomach, the V of his hips disappearing under his clean black slacks.
He’s smooth and defined, much like his outward persona, but one dark mark catches my eye. There’s a tattoo on his chest, right above his heart. I can sort of make it out through the fabric—a sideways black cross, with a red loop wrapping around it that looks like anS.
It wouldn’t have caught my eye at all if he’d had a singular other piece of art on his body, but this one stands alone, and begs to be stared at. Or maybe I’m just gawking.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. Iwantto touch every muscle on him, trace every inch of skin until he’s panting, but that feels like a complete violation, so I grab at my hair and tug instead.
His belt clicking open is louder than a gunshot, and I open-mouth gasp in a breath. It gets me a full smile on his handsome face, his eyes crinkling so slightly at the corners.
