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“You don’t look like someone who scares easily.” I lick my lips.
He’s so close again. “I’m not.” His thumb drifts across my bottom lip.
I can’t help but lick it again. My tongue brushes against his thumb.
His eyes flick up to mine. “Margaret.”
“That’s me.”
“I know.” He drops his hands away. Disappointment hits me. I thought he was going to kiss me again. I know the first time was to get me to be quiet. I’m not so sure what the second one was for. Maybe another way to calm me down?
I guess I do go quiet when he kisses me. I think I go into a bit of shock every time those gorgeous lips meet mine. Quiet is not something I usually am. Except at work when I have to hold it back so I don’t annoy Mr. Baines. Which is easy to do. Maybe that’s why he’s trying to murder me. My dad always said my mouth was going to get me in trouble one day.
This whole thing is even more mystifying, because I could never picture Mr. Black kissing anyone. He doesn't look like the type that does sweet kisses and cuddles.
He doesn't say anything else, just keeps staring at me. I shift on top of him, trying to get more comfortable. Or maybe I’m supposed to get off. I freeze when I see his expression change. He looks pissed. His hands grab my hips.
“I’m sorry I screamed.”
“Margaret.” He growls my name. His fingers dig into my hips more.
“I really am sorry. I’m scared of spiders. All bugs really. They crawl all around and you can’t find them. It creeps me out. I heard that you swallow like seven spiders a year! Seven. I try to sleep with my mouth closed. Was it closed when I was sleeping? I can’t see myself when I’m sleeping so I’m not sure if I open it after I fall asleep. I guess I can’t really control it. Still I don’t want to eat spiders. What if-” His mouth comes down onto mine.
I relax into him as he kisses me again. My eyes fall closed. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth. I part my lips for him, letting him in. His kiss is slow and sweet. Tentatively, I try to kiss him back. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know if I don’t kiss him back I’ll regret it.
A throb between my legs kicks up, and I try to squeeze my thighs together to stifle the growing heat. He growls into my mouth when I do it. Then my hips rock just the slightest bit. Another groan, and his hand pins me in place so I can’t do it anymore. Have I gone too far? I pull back from the kiss and look down, unable to meet his eyes.
“Sorry,” I say again.
“Stop apologizing.”
“Sorry.” I jerk my head back up. “I didn't mean to say it again. It's a habit. It’s proper manners. My mom always told me that-”
“Do you always talk this much? I don’t remember that. You’re always so quiet in the office.”
I bite my bottom lip so I don’t say sorry for the tenth time. Instead, I just shrug. Yes, I talk this much. It drove my parents crazy growing up. It gets worse when a situation is awkward. Then I can never shut up. Unless Mr. Black kisses me. That sure seems to work.
I try to scoot back, but again get nowhere. I shift, sucking in a breath when I realize exactly what my sex is pressed up against.Do not say sorry. I repeat on a loop in my head.
“I need to use the bathroom.” It’s the only thing I can come up with so I can get out of here for a minute. I need to get myself together so I don’t start babbling on more and annoy him. He releases my hips. I try to jump up but fall over. He grabs me before I hit the floor and puts me back on my feet.
“Thanks.” I dart to the bathroom and close the door behind me. I put my face in my hands. I can’t go back out there. Gah. What is wrong with me? I was dry-humping him, and he was only trying to kiss me so I’d shut up.
I go over to the sink, turn the water on, and splash it on my face. I’m not sure if that will get it to cool down so I’m not blushing like a maniac. I grab the towel and wipe myself dry. I suddenly feel exhausted again. It’s still night out. I pull open the door to see Mr. Black standing next to the bed.
“No spiders.”
“Thanks.” I climb back into bed. He puts the blanket over me before heading to flip off the light. The room goes black. I hear him sit back down in the chair. “It’s a big bed. We can share. I’m sure the chair isn’t comfortable.” I scoot all the way over and sigh. “I sure miss Wally.”
“Wally?” His voice turns darker.
“My pandacorn.” I haven’t even shed a tear for him. What kind of person am I?
“Oh.” His tone lightens. “The stuffed animal.”
“His name was Wally. He was the best pandacorn ever made.” I sniffle a little and scoot closer to the wall. “You can fit in the bed. It’s big enough.”
“You think it’s a big bed because you’re tiny. I’m a big man.”
