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“I…” I don’t know what to say. It’s never been pointed out to me like that…just how very blessed I am. When I think about Ransom, who is like a brother to me now because Ayana is like a sister, and I think about his poor face, the life he led, the scars he accumulated because he had no parents, and the foster ‘parents’ who were supposed to be looking after him but didn’t even bother to feed him, I do feel like a whiner.
Lennox is right. I do have my health, and I have my family. I also have an education, my own place, a job, and a small amount of savings in the bank. Not only that, but I have food at home that I can eat anytime I please, and I have health insurance. Maybe I only have one good friend, but so what? Ayana is worth at least a hundred only so-so friends, and now I have Ransom and Maya in my life too.
“Sorry.” I know it’s lame, but that word is sincere. “I know I’ve been and am privileged, but do you think it’s possible to be blessed and unlucky all at once?”
“No. I’d say most people would think you’re very, very lucky.”
I don’t hesitate to nod. He’s right. I guess maybe I should stop using the term luck and start using the term cursed or klutzy or consistently in the wrong place at the wrong time, as Lennox suggested.
I pick up the bottle candy and jam it into my mouth. The thing is freaking old and as hard as an ancient, well-used rubber boot, but I chew and chew, then I swallow. Lennox watches me the whole time with his eyes fixed on my lips, which is both incredibly sexy and entirely unnerving. He looks like he’s yearning for a taste. Of that candy. “Shit. I…I shouldn’t have listened to you. I should have bit it in half.”
“That’s okay.”
Lennox’s voice is deep and husky. He’s still looking at my lips, really looking. He’s looking at them like he wants to devour them, which obviously does wild things to my belly. And my hoo-ha. Just saying.
“It’s not. I should have shared it with you. I’m obviously insensitive in so many ways.”
“No. You can be a good person and still need a change of perspective. And if I want a taste, all I have to do is this.”
He leans in, his spicy scent enveloping me as I gulp a quick breath of oxygen, and oh my holy joe crow, he’s going to kiss me. I’m not prepared for the mind-bending awesomeness that is going to be this kiss. It’s going to break my world apart, blow my mind, and set my panties on fire, epic dumpster style, but without the shitty connotation of that phrase.
But he doesn’t. He stops shy of my lips, and I should have expected no less. With my luck or whatever it is I have going on, no one wants to take their chances by tempting fate. Plus, he’s already made it clear that he’s not interested. My stomach crashes, my heart burns, my brain goes into shut down, protective mode, and my hopes plummet straight into the abyss where dreams go to die.
And then.
There’s an ‘and then.’
Lennox’s hand hovers near my chin, barely touching me, his finger angling my face up to meet his. He doesn’t kiss me, no. Someone like Lennox doesn’t just kiss. Am I mind blown? No way. Lenox is more of a mind-obliteration kind of guy. Instead of locking lips with me, his tongue traces my lower lip, licking off the vestiges of sour sugar from the candy.
Oh. My. God. Did it just get several thousand degrees hotter in here? Right, yes, it did. Because my lady bits just ignited into flames.
He hums low in his throat. Hums. A deep, lovely sound. With that, I am beyond done here. My panties? On fire. My ovaries? Close to exploding. My hoo-ha? Shivery with delight. My panties? Soaked. Oh wait, I went there already. Well, soaked or on fire, maybe they can be both.
And then.
There’s another ‘and then.’
Lennox’s tongue moves to my top lip.
CHAPTER 5
Lennox
“Lennox, we should…talk.”
It’s not exactly what I thought Cass would say after I lick her bottom and top lip, which are utterly deliciously and maddeningly tempting even without the few grains of sugar that I spotted.
“Alright, your lips are divine.”
“No! Not that kind of talk.”
“I see. Dirtier?” She glances at the silent baby monitor on the table. “Those things are one-way communicators,” I assure her.
“Not dirtier.” She shudders. My stomach does a sloshing, cramping thing as I watch disgust roll through her. Right, why wouldn’t she find me disgusting? Sometimes I can barely handle myself. “It’s just…this isn’t…uh…my couch.”
I let out a sigh. I’m being too sensitive. Not exactly my forte. Sensitivity. That shudder just hit me in the wrong spot and stroked me the wrong way. Whatever it is that people say. It got me straight in the bits that are still a little raw, even though, most of the time, I give zero fucks what people think. I’ve had enough therapy, compliments of Granny always being worried about all of us, that I’ve worked through most of those demons, but I guess a few still linger here and there, writhing under my skin occasionally. They probably always will, and honestly, I’ve really tried to make peace with that, along with everything else.
