“How considerate of him,” I reply dryly. “And I’m sure there’s more to it than that. There always is with my dad.” When he shifts his weight, seeming awfully squirmy, I ask, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He shrugs awkwardly as he props himself up on one arm. “If there is, it’s not like I’d tell you.”
“Well, that’s rude.”
“Well, isn’t the whole point of not telling someone just that? To not tell them, even if it’s rude? Besides, didn’t you just give me a whole speech while we were in the car about you knowing things you weren’t telling me and that you weren’t obligated to tell me, even if I asked?”
“It wasn’t a speech,” I correct. “It was a simple statement.”
He presses back a grin. “I’m starting to realize that, with you, nothing is simple … You’re a very intense girl.”
“You’re the one who’s lying on top of me. I think, right now, that statement might describe you more than it does me.”
“Yeah, but I’m not a girl,” he points out amusedly.
“Huh, could’ve fooled me.” In a sick, twisted way, I’m kind of enjoying getting under his skin, which shit, is something he already accused me of.
I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually this persistent with tormenting guys or anyone in general. Then again, people usually give up more easily. Blaise is as stubborn as me.
He mockingly scowls at me. “Hey, I’m not girlie-looking.”
“You’re pretty, though.” I shrug.
He shakes his head, gaping at me. “I’m not pretty. I have piercings and tattoos, and the way I dress … none of that is girlie.”
I struggle not to smile, totally getting off on this.I’m screwed up. I really am. First I smile like this with Rhyland and now Blaise. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Girlie girls can have piercings and tattoos, so I don’t think that saves your ass. Besides, even if it did, I don’t see any of these alleged piercings and tattoos.”
His brow curves upward. “You don’t believe I have them?”
“No, I don’t.” I grin at the look on his face. “It’s amusing how irritated you are about that.”
“Yeah, well, you’re about to be equally as irritated.” He sticks out his tongue that, sure enough, is glinting with a metallic piercing. “See? Piercing.” Then he dips his head and licks the side of my neck.
“What the hell?” I squeal, pushing him back. “Why did you do that?”
He gives a half-shrug, seeming pretty damn pleased with himself. “You wanted proof. I figured that was the best way to give it to you.”
“By licking me?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
I wipe my neck. “Because it’s gross.”
“Sure it is.” And there’s that smug smile again.
Screw him and his licking.
“Fine, if you don’t think so, then I’m sure you won’t mind me doing this.” I raise my head and slide my tongue along his neck, making sure to drool a bit on his skin for good measure.
Instead of squealing, he curses, then licks my damn neck again.
“Stop!” I whine, but laughter is bursting from my lips.
I’m not even sure what the hell is so funny, yet I’m laughing like an idiot. I realize it’s been a long time since I laughed this hard. I’ve been so stressed out lately. For years, actually.
Blaise is laughing, too, as he wipes his neck off.