Page 38 of Stone Cold Touch

I turned my head toward him, studying his strong profile. “Nothing I want to talk about now.” Because if I told him about the Lilin suspicions, I would inevitably have to tell him about Roth and I wanted to enjoy this little outing. “After we eat?”

He glanced at me and was quiet for a moment. “Should I be worried?”

“No.” I liked the way the ends of his hair curled out from under the cap. “What did you do today?”

“Slept.” He laughed as he drove past the eatery, looking for a parking garage. “Last night was boring. Streets were dead. For some reason that makes me more tired the next day.”

“Is it odd that it was so dead?” I thought about the Lilin.

“Depends. If it continues, then yes.” After finding a spot on the ground level—he had mad luck—he killed the engine and turned to me as he pulled the keys out. “Hold still,” he said, and I obeyed mostly out of curiosity. He reached over, smoothing his thumb along my lower lip. “You had a tiny piece of lint there and I think...”

His words trailed off, ending in a ragged inhale. At first I didn’t realize why—what I’d done, and then things began to register—the gut-wrenching sensation that caused my insides to coil into tight springs, the dilated look to his pupils, the sudden vibrancy of his blue eyes, the way his chest rose sharply and the salty taste of his skin as my tongue glided over the slightly rough pad of his thumb.

Oh God.

Oh my God.

I was licking his thumb. Like reallylickinghis thumb.

And my body responded to the illicit, wholly forbidden taste of his skin. A heaviness settled in my breasts and heat flowed through me. He didn’t pull away. It seemed as though he was straining forward, his upper body already over the gearshift between us.

Blood burning for two very different reasons, I jerked back, breaking the contact between us. My cheeks were on fire—my entire body was on fire. I didn’t know what to say or do. Zayne stared at me, his chest rising and falling out of rhythm. I didn’t know what he was thinking. I didn’t want to.

Mortification replaced the simmering heat that was turning my insides into lava. What in Hell’s bells was I thinking? Needing air and space, I quickly unbuckled myself and all but threw myself out of the car.

My eyes stung. There was no way I could sit through this early-dinner thing after doing whatever I was doing. I’d have to hail a cab or walk home or move to Alaska or sew my mouth—

As I rounded the hood of the Impala, Zayne was suddenly in front of me. The baseball cap was turned backward and his eyes were wide. No doubt he thought I was a freak. Iwasa freak. Like a total creeper coward, I darted to the side to get around him. He blocked my path, settling his hands on my shoulders.

“Whoa,” he said softly. “Where are you running off to?”

“I don’t know.” My throat felt as if it was closing off. Could I be allergic to his skin? That sounded stupid. Maybe it was a panic attack. “We should go. Like now. Or we can go home if you want. I’d totally understand and I’m so—”

“Hey, no need for all of that.” His hands curled around my shoulders. “It’s okay. Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not.” My voice cracked. “I—”

“It’s fine.” He tugged me forward, and when I resisted, he pulled harder. I face-planted in his chest and inhaled his crisp scent. “Look, you’ve been under a lot of stress and crazy stuff has been happening.”

True, but that was absolutely no excuse for licking someone’s finger. I squeezed my eyes shut as his arms went around me. He dipped his head, resting his chin atop my head. Only Zayne could be this understanding. He was too perfect sometimes.

And I was too weird all the times.

“I don’t know why I did it,” I said, my voice muffled. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it until...well, you know, and I’m so sorry.”

“Stop.” He rocked to the side, the movement soothing. “It wasn’t...”

I drew back a little, daring to peek up at him. “It wasn’t what? Gross? Because I’m pretty sure you’d prefer that I hadn’t—”

“You have no idea what I prefer and what I don’t.” The way he said it wasn’t dismissive. More like a statement of fact.

I searched his face for an answer to a question I wasn’t ready or willing to ask. His gaze met mine, and I lowered my lashes. His hand cupped my cheek and an overwhelming feeling of fondness rose inside of me, along with something deeper, more intense.

Zayne slipped his hand away. “We should get going. Your friends are waiting for us.”

I nodded, and as we headed out from the parking garage into the fast-fading sun of November, he whipped his cap around, shielding his eyes. We didn’t speak as we walked the half block to the eatery, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to my finger licking or something else.

The pretty college-age hostess who led us down the narrow aisle of booths and tables spent most of the trip checking Zayne out.

---