“Torment, yes. But not to hurt you, Priss. I’m just playing.” I’ve always been the guy that’ll take a chance; I was never the guy who asked for permission. I never took a woman against her wishes, but I don’t spell shit out either. So I lean in and risk my balls when I run the tip of my nose over her temple. “What words do you want from me? What words will end with you and me spending the rest of the night together?”
Her head smacks against the stall door when she shoots back in surprise. “What? None! Are you insane?”
I shrug and trail the tip of my finger along her sharp hipbone. I still have the wine and flower in my left hand, so I’m limited on how much I can touch. “Some have accused me of insanity. Some have said worse. But if you’re looking for certifiable, then nope.” I grin. “I’m all here.”
“Oh!” The bathroom door opens and reveals Laine’s surprised eyes. They’re round and border on fear for just a beat, but when her gaze comes to mine and I smile, she reverses her ass out and slams the door as she goes.
“Oh my gosh!” Abigail tries to push me back. “She’s going to think the worst!”
“She has bigger things on her mind than what you and I do in this bathroom, Priss. Don’t let it worry your pretty little heart.”
I pull back only far enough to sip the wine. Abigail’s eyes follow my movements, and power swirls in my blood because I know – I fuckingknow! – she’s intrigued. She’s terrified, scandalized, horrified, and a million other emotions. But she’s interested, and the fact that she is bothers the fuck out of her.
With slow movements, I press the lip of the glass to her glossed lips, and watch as her pupils dilate. I think maybe I’ve scaled a wall of some sort when her fist on my stomach turns to a flat palm, a caress rather than ahell no, but when I try to lift the wine and tip the liquid into her mouth, she shakes her head and turns away.
“I’ve wondered about you, Priss. I’ve laid in bed at night the past week and wondered about you.”
“You…” She licks her lips. “What?”
“Mmm. Women are so… copy and paste for the most part, right? The same fashion, the same hair, the same makeup with the smoky eyes and fat lips. It’s not that that’s a bad thing, because they look good while they’re cloning each other, but the only women I don’t consider a genetic bore are either in love with my friends, or…”
She greedily gulps air as her eyes flicker between mine. “Or…?”
“Or you, Priss. Fucked if I can pinpoint what keeps me interested, but it might literally be as simple as…” I shrug. “You’re not the same as them.”
“Right, becausetheyare double Ds and beautiful. They wear fashionable clothes and have beautiful hair. They don’t roll their ankles when wearing nice heels, and they know how to talk to men.”
“Babe…” I flash my widest grin yet when our chests touch, and her body shivers beneath mine. “You’re wearing heels, and I haven’t seen you stumble yet. Your tits may not be double Ds, but they look good in that dress all the same.”
It bothers me how starkly her hipbone juts out beneath my hand, but it doesn’t slow my gentle caress as I move lower.
“Your dress tonight stands up to every single woman’s inside that function room. It’s stunning, and second only to the bride’s. You’re beautiful, Abigail, and you don’t need to do anything with your face to show it off. The clones wear makeup to enhance what they have. You’re just you, and you’ve got my attention.”
“But my–”
“And you want hair like theirs? You want jet black or snow white? You want perfectly straight, or tight curls? Do you want, seriouslywant, to be a copy and paste?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she whimpers. “I’ve always stood out, but for all the wrong reasons. My hair–”
“Is the first and only thing I see for a full minute after you walk into a room. I don’t mean that in a bad way. Your hair is beautiful, shiny, soft, and so fucking tempting to run my fingers through.”
“Don’t…” She swallows. “Don’t say the F word. Please.”
“Your eyes…”
They shoot up to mine.
“When I’m finally able to look away from your hair, your eyes are the next thing that nearly strangle me. Why the fu–”
And this. Right now. Right this second, as I censor myself because the pretty girl asked me to, this is a moment I’ll look back on andknowit all went to shit.
“Why thehelldo you have two different colored eyes? That ain’t fair, Abigail. It’s not fair that with everything else you have going on, you also get those eyes.”
“I’ve said that a million times,” she whimpers. “But not because I like them.”
“I like them.” I lean in closer, and when her body is nothing but a mass of nerves in my hand, I snake my tongue out and tap her earlobe.
She shoots into the air exactly how I predicted, so I hold on tight and use my teeth next.