Page 111 of Between the Lines

“I know. And now I won’t. Promise.”

“You’re hot, too. Which makes it kind of hard to believe you’re callingmehot, but you know.” I shrug and swallow another spoonful of soup. I’m not insecure about my looks. I like my appearance, even. It’s one of the few things I don’t feel vulnerable about. But it’s hard to dismiss the clear difference between us.

“Don’t do that,” he says, “or you’re going to make it impossible for me to keep my compliments to myself.”

“Fine. I’m very hot. It’s entirely believable that I seduced a successful, attractive, extremely rich Los Angeles executive.”

His eyebrows rise. “Did I just reverse psychology you into breaking the ‘no compliments’ rule yourself?”

“I guess you did. Shoot.”

“Don’t worry. You’re a good opponent.”

“Mm-hmm. So are you.” Annoyingly, sometimes. His eyes are warm, and I don’t want to look away. He takes off his tuxedo jacket, and it’s like he’s slowly coming unbound, standing here in his home again, returning to the man I know.

I wonder if he’s been drinking tonight. If lots of beautiful celebrities and reality stars hung on his arm, trying to charm and impress him.

But he came home to me instead. Bearing gifts.

He walks around the island. “Feel better?”

I nod. He cups my chin and tilts my face up. “I’m sorry you couldn’t come tonight, for purely selfish reasons.”

“You are?” I turn toward him, and he steps closer. I have to tip my head back to meet his gaze.

“I would have enjoyed myself a lot more with you by my side.” His thumb glides over my lower lip, his stare is bottomless. “I don’t like people who aren’t who they say they are. That’s what I like about you, Chaos.” He bends closer, his mouth hovering over mine in an almost kiss. “You’ve always been honest with me, even if you’re hard to figure out. I’ve had to learn to read between the lines.”

His lips brush against mine in the faintest of kisses. Once. Twice.

“You can kiss me like you mean it,” I whisper.

“You’re sick,” he says.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Not that sick.”

He kisses me slowly. Deeply. When he lifts his head, I feel faint, and it’s definitely not because of my imaginary illness. I want him to hold me closer.

He’s a drug, and I’m getting more and more addicted.

“You should be sleeping by now,” he says.

“You’re not a nurse. Or a doctor.”

“I know the basic science of health.”

I smile against his lips. “Yeah? And what’s that? Sleep equals good?”

“Yes. It’s the most fundamental health advice there is.”

“You never sleep.”

“That’s not true.”

I pull back, hands still around his neck. “I’ve seen you. You’re up late, working. Your light is always on.”

He shakes his head a little. “You’re stalking me.”

“We sleep down the hall from one another.”

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