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When I shook my head, he shoved the rest of his chip into his mouth and pressed his lips together, suppressing his stupid smile, and I bounced on my toes, covering my eyes. “Please, Jason, don’t laugh at me. Please.”
He skimmed his fingers back and forth over my shoulders. “All right. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”
As I followed close behind, he walked down the hall to my bedroom, his head on a swivel, probably taking in the hand-drawn pictures everywhere, the clothes piled up on my unmade bed.
“Where is it?”
“There.” I pointed over his shoulder.
“Where?”
“Right there.” I grimaced. How could he miss it? It was enormous. “By the bed, on the wall.”
“Oh, that little thing?”
“Little?” I nearly shouted. “It’s huge! Like a half-dollar!”
He grabbed a tissue and promptly killed it. “A half-dollar? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that coin in real life, and this thing was, like, a dime at most.”
“Is it dead?”
He held the tissue open to me, with black legs mangled in every direction. I threw my arms up, squirming and sputtering.
“Coming from the girl who doesn’t eat things with mothers,” he mocked, tossing the arachnid corpse away in the trash before turning back to me. His cocky grin dropped, and he paused in the middle of whatever he was about to say. His attention leisurely tracked down my body, in contradiction to how he’d studied me in alarm mere moments ago.
This time, his eyes blazed, pupils widening, and I suddenly realized—two seconds after Jason did—that I only had my leggings and sports bra on. My skin dotted with goose bumps, and I crossed my arms over my chest, hiding my hard nipples.
“Are you cold?” he asked, stepping closer.
“No, spiders make my skin crawl.”
But it was too late. He knew the truth, the sound rough when he let out a low, “Mm-hmm.”
Slowly, he reached up and skimmed his thumb and index finger down a wave of my hair. “You amaze me sometimes.”
“In a good or bad way?” Between his concentrated stare and gentle touch, he was dragging me into him like some gravitational force, and had to hold on to his forearm for balance.
“In a very good way.” He dropped his head a fraction of an inch, so close yet so far away.
“You think I’m some naughty child.” My words were barely a whisper.
His tongue traced his bottom lip, his teeth scraping over it, and I wanted that to be me. Pressing up onto my toes, I weaved away from him slightly, and he caught me with a hand on my waist. I felt each of his fingertips press into my skin.
“You have no idea,” he rasped, my skin prickling almost to the point of pain, desperate to be soothed.
“About what?” I asked, so close I could smell the hint of salt on his breath from the chips.
He swallowed thickly, his throat working hard. “What I would do to you.”
Oh god. My nipples ached with every passing second, my core throbbed with arousal, eager for relief, and yet he held back. Waiting for permission.
What an absurdly perfect man.
“Kiss me, Jason.”
And that was it. His mouth met mine in an explosion offinally.
Finally, I gave up the battle I’d fought against him.
