I close the water and wrap a towel around my waist. And there she stands, staring with huge eyes through the open door. Huge wild eyes. She’s not moving, nor blinking and I’m pretty sure she’s not breathing either.
“Like what you see?” I say hoping to get her bodily functions on par again. She closes her dropped mouth and one by one, her processes reboot. First, she blinks, then she takes a breath, and lastly, she moves.
“Yes.” She also speaks. I smile at her answer. I’m thinking her brain hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe I should help her.
“So you like my naked body?”
“Yes.” Now this interests me. “Wait,” she blinks a few times and realizes that the damage is done. “Frick.” She wipes her hands over her face, then pushes out her chin, and pegs me.
“Yes, Damion,” she pokes a finger into my bare chest. “You have a very nice hot body.” She’s back, fully restored. More or less.
“So what?” Another poke. I want to believe that she wants to touch me, but it could be a delayed reaction from the shock she experienced seeing me naked.
“I just like to hear you say it.” She groans and rolls her eyes. And I look at her soccer outfit and wonder how long it will take me to get her out of it and into the shower.
“FYI … so does Axel and Alejandro.” Not cool.
“And just for that, you can shower alone and wash your own back,” I rip.
“You know, one day you’re gonna choke on the shit you talk.” Feisty. Great. Cause feisty girls are great in bed.
I slide past her, and her left breast – fully covered in a soccer shirt and probably a bra – scrapes against my chest and my brain flips a switch. Completely switches to off.
From the light touch of a not-even-naked breast. How pathetic.
“I put some clean clothes out for you.” I point to the bed. Right now I’m not sure who is more disheveled – me or her. I quickly disappear into my walk-in cupboard and throw on a pair of trousers and a hoodie. When I come out she’s still standing in the same spot.
“I’ll go warm the food,” I say and leave the room. In the kitchen, I lean for a moment against the counter to find my bearings. It’s her scent. It drugs me. Makes me stupid.
Maybe it is her eyes, too. They bewitch me. And her lips. Her smile. Her skin. Hell, it’s fucking her. Everything about her drives me fucking nuts.
Voodoo. I swear it’s fucking voodoo.
There is something about this girl and her whole untouchable attitude that makes me want to rise to the challenge.
And I mean rise.
I take out the containers Mom brought. I shove the pie, carrots, and bread into the oven to warm. I put the salad on the counter with some plates and cutlery. Then I lean against the counter again.
“Hey,” she shouts while walking into the kitchen and I do a double-take.
“Thalia called.” She slaps my phone against my chest.
“She said that she has trouble sleeping with her stiff muscles. Wanted to know if you’re up,” she says with careful politeness in a sex kitten voice. I can’t take my fucking eyes off her.
Having some problems accessing working brain cells, I say: “I’m fully up right now.”
She knots her eyebrows and snorts … but dips a quick glance at my groin.
“Where’s the pants?” I ask, still not running on full brain power. Not that I don’t like the sight, but because I need to focus – I need blood in my brain to think when we have our talk. I can’t have a boner mess everything up.
“The pants were wwwaaaayyyy too big.” Hair loose and wild, she’s dressed in my shirt, and although it reaches mid-thigh, it’s extremely distracting because of two things – she’s wrapped up in my clothes, and she’s not wearing a bra. Heaven help me, I hope she’s wearing some briefs.
“Eh … did the boxers fit?” I have to make sure. For my peace of mind.
And because I really really want to know.
“No.” Fuck.
“But luckily I always carry an extra pair of undies in case my period starts.” Looking at my face, she both flips and turns a shade of pink that’s absolutely adorable.
“My eyes are up here.” Yeah, I know. I take my time to move my eyes slowly up that body until they lock into hers.
“It’s just the first time a girl is wearing my clothes, and inadvertently, it looks way better on you than me.”
Another blush moves up from her neck to her face and even reddens the lobes of her ears. Double adorbs.
“Food’s almost ready,” I say, and for some reason, I can’t not smile.
“Great, ’cause I’m starving.” My smile widens. For such a petite girl she sure eats a lot. But I like that she’s not one of those salad-munching bunnies. I hate nothing more than ordering a steak and having a girl drool over it while finishing off her greens.
“And we can talk while we eat … after which you can take me home.” She jumps to sit on the counter opposite me, closing her knees together to hide the view, and what a perfect view it is.
“We’ll talk,” I say, “but it’s going to take a while. You’re not going home tonight.” I can’t decipher the look on her face. It could be shock, fear, or lust. I’m going to assume the latter since she’s licking her lips.
Date = 8 November
Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)
POV – Melaena
My nose wriggles at the scent of garlic and melted cheese, and if I’m not mistaken, something caramelized in sugar. “Smells good.” My stomach purrs.
He slouches over the counter, opens some tinfoil, and sinks his pearly-whites into a big piece of cheesy garlic bread. Moaning, he closes his eyes. “Mm, good.”
My mouth waters.
He polishes off the leftover piece, puts on some lemon-green mitts, and removes two glass dishes from the oven before placing them on the counter next to the bread and potato salad. I stare at the food. Chicken pie and sweet sugary carrots. Not what I was expecting. But better.