“You still didn’t answer my question.”
She flinches even though my voice is the usual range. Okay, maybe it’s lower. Which goes without saying, in view of the amount of blood that’s been rushing to my cock since earlier.
Impulse control is my specialty, but even my godlike abilities are proving to be lacking whenever this girl is in sight.
She doesn’t even smell special—an important sense that usually either makes me interested in fucking someone or crossing them off my list.
It’s paint, I realize. She smells like oil paint and something fruity. Cherries. Or raspberries.
Too sweet, low-key, and definitely not something I’m usually into.
Glyndon as a whole is not something I’m usually into.
“Where is this place?” she whispers.
“Your posh friends haven’t taken you on a ride to this part of the island? It’s where we bury the bodies.”
She chokes while swallowing, and I burst out laughing.Christ.I could get used to the feeling of seeping under her skin, watching her flounder with her cheeks reddening and her eyes widening. Or witnessing the light in her irises change from high to low and everything in between.
I’ve been studying emotions since I realized I was different—back at that mice incident—and this is the first time I’ve meet someone whose emotions are so transparent, so visible, it’s fucking fascinating.
Curious, even.
I’m tempted to explore it more, delve deeper, hook against her darkest parts and expose it all.
Everything.
I want to see inside her.
Literally and figuratively.
“I was kidding,” I say after my laughter subsides.
“You’re not funny.”
“And you didn’t answer my question. If I have to ask again, it won’t be with words, Glyndon.”
She gives me a look, dirty and a bit condescending. “Do you get off on threatening people?”
“No, and I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t being difficult over a trivial matter.”
“So my privacy is trivial now?”
“There’s no such thing as privacy in this day and age. Any form of privacy is a smokescreen that’s coded by numbers and algorithms. Besides, the topic of your virginity isn’t private anymore since I now know about it.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re stalling.”
She releases a long breath, whether in frustration or resignation, I’m not sure. But she remains silent for a while as the sound of the engine fills the car.
“I just didn’t feel like having sex. Happy now?”
“My happiness has nothing to do with this. Why didn’t you feel like having sex?”
“That’s another question.”
“Never said there was a limit to the number of questions I’d ask.”