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“This is ridiculous. I do not need a ha—”
She nudges me to look in a mirror off to our side. Something inside my chest moves. I grasp at my breastbone and grit my teeth from this odd yet… pleasant sensation.
Why the heck am I so pleased right now?
I try to frown, but alas, I cannot.
Morgan has placed some ridiculous thing on my head. Now I have a poof of my own. I move my head from side to side and watch my reflection. The giant ball flings around. It is annoying, and nowhere near as cute as the fluffs covering her ears, or the smaller matching poof on her head.
“Do you like it?”
Of course I fucking like it.
I dare not say this.
I dare not even try to comprehend what the hell is going on right now.
“No. I hate it. Let’s go.” I move to leave the store, but before I do I grab the two bags of candy from off the ground and carry them for her.
Chapter Five
Morgan
We have a lot of candy.
I realize as we stand outside the theater that there’s no way it’ll all fit in my coat pockets. Balancing the loot in the crook of one arm, I shove my free hand into the pocket of Grimm’s robe. It swallows my arm to the elbow.
He startles as I swirl my hand around in there, gauging the available free space.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you an accomplice. Hold still.”
Angling him toward me, I shove candy into both of his inside pockets, then on second thought take out a full-size chocolate bar and slip it into the back pocket of my jeans. I might want that sooner than later.
“There, contraband treats, concealed. I'm ready now.”
Grimm’s eyes narrow as he lifts his arms away from his sides. “I feel…bulky.”
“Give it half an hour and we’ll have eaten the majority of it. You’re fine. Come on.” I move to leave, excited for the show and my firstrealdate in ages, but Grimm heaves a dissatisfied grumble.
“This is unpleasant,” he complains, twisting and patting his sides to get comfortable. “And I do not consume sugary poison.”
Sugary poison.Inwardly, I roll my eyes. The way this Reaper talks about candy and chocolate makes it sound like it’s deadly, but isn’t he already dead?
Facing him, I grip his cloak in my hands and raise up on tiptoes so I can meet his eyes. His lips are directly across from mine, something I notice immediately.
“Being the last people in the theater and having everyone stare at you is more uncomfortable. That I can promise. Come on, let’s go!”
Despite my urgency to find seats, I’m in no hurry to let him go. Nor does he seem eager for me to give him back his personal space. His pale blue eyes drop to my mouth. I wet them with the tip of my tongue, my cheeks heating as he watches the movement with darkening interest. The expression on his face slowly morphs from irritation to something else.
Desire?
Suddenly breathless, I lower onto the balls of my feet and release his cloak. “Um, okay, this way.”
I take his hand as I walk inside to the ticket booth and purchase two seats and a bottle of water. While we’re waiting, people swarm around us, all of them waiting impatiently to get their snacks before the movie starts. When someone stumbles a little too close for comfort, I inch toward Grimm, seeking more of him.
His flat hand curls slightly around my palm, his fingers turning inward to lightly cup mine. Shivers race down my spine at the contact. A smile bobbles the corners of my lips, but I don’t dare look at him in case he realizes and makes his hand flat and impersonal again.
