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We reach out to shake hands. Perhaps I imagine it, but I’m almost certain she makes a soft whimpering noise as we touch.
Or maybe it’s wishful thinking, a way to justify my growing hunger, the tornado ripping through me as I feel her soft, warm hand.
And then, when she takes her hand away, I see it.
Fuck.
It’s right there.
The butterfly on her wrist.
I stare, unable to believe it.
Her?
Why would anybody want this woman dead?
CHAPTERTHREE
Freya
I stare up at Felix, hoping he can’t tell how badly I want to throw myself at him.
He’s six and a half feet tall, if I had to guess, with wide shoulders and steel-colored hair. I never knew I liked the older-man thing before, and maybe I don’t, as a general rule.
All I know isthisman, Felix makes it difficult to think.
His arms are huge and muscular in his shirt, the sleeves rolled up, letting me see the firmness of his forearms. His eyes are an icy, sharp blue, making me wonder if he’s silently laughing at me when paired with the subtle smirk on his lips.
“So you want to be a tattooist?” he says, in a gruff voice that seems to cut through all the hubbub of the party.
Or maybe it’s just how badly I want to hear his voice…and the utterly insane thoughts spiraling into my mind. Thoughts of this man wanting me the same way I want him, of him grabbing me right here, kissing me.
I’ve never experienced this. I wish Julie was here so I could ask her if it’s normal to want, no, need somebody this instantly, this hungrily.
But with so little experience with men, I’m not sure how to handle this.
He chuckles. “Shall I start with something easier?”
I take a step forward, ignoring the little high-school voice in my head, telling me I’ll make a fool of myself.
“Are you making fun of me, Felix?”
He smirks again, but there’s somethingoffabout it. It’s like he feels guilty for nearly smiling. I don’t know. But I’d like to…I’d like to know as much about this man as I possibly can.
“I wouldn’t dream of that,” he says. “It’s just the way you were looking at me.”
I laugh, though I can’t say exactly why. It’s something in the ironic slant of his tone, in the way his eyes stare at me andonlyme.
People are walking by all around us, but he never looks away. Lexi’s gone, talking to somebody else, but I only realize that when I hear her laughing from behind me.
“How was I looking at you, then?” I ask.
Without discussing it, we drift to the edge of the room. My pulse is pumping far too quickly, hammering inside of me, as though my instincts are telling me to leap forward, wrap my legs around him, grind against him, and kiss him.
And then lie in his arms, let him hold me.
Julie, before her dad, would’ve done something crazy like that if she liked a man. She’d throw herself at him without shame, enjoying the ride if he accepted herorrejected her.
