Page 65 of A Boy Called Lovesong

As though what he lacked in vision, he made up for with some other unknown power over me.

My legs began to sway gently.

My body hovered ever closer to his.

The space between our lips was about to vanish when suddenly—

He pulled his head back.

He turned to the stove.

“Corn cakes. I can smell corn cakes. They’re about to burn.”

I sniffed the air and glanced at the corn cakes in the pan. “No they’re—oh shit!”

Smoke began to billow out from under them.

I dashed for the stove top and yanked the pan off the heat, coughing and waving away the smoke just as the cakes began to turn to charcoal. I dumped the pan in the sink and fumbled with the knobs on the stove before shutting off the heat.

A second later, Maybelle limped quickly into the kitchen. “Noah, what’s going on here? Didn’t I specifically tell you tonotburn the place down?”

“I’m sorry. I got… distracted.”

Maybelle looked from Lovesong to me, then down at my crotch and arched her eyebrows. “I can see that.”

I looked down and saw not just my erection, but how prominent it was. “Oh shit,” I said again, grabbing an empty saucepan off the counter and covering my crotch with it.

“Like things weren’t hot enough in here already,” Maybelle quipped. “You two just had to go and turn the heat right up.”

Lovesong smirked. “What’s going on? What can you see?” he asked Maybelle.

“Nothing,” I answered quickly. “It’s nothing. I think I need to go take a shower.”

“Mm-mmm,” nodded Maybelle. “I bet you do. Make it nice and cold, won’t you.”

I glanced at Lovesong and saw him giggling behind one hand. Yeah, he pretty much knew what was going on.

Blushing, I hurried from the kitchen.

I showered in the shared bathroom upstairs, only running the cold water which was far from freezing. The pipes runningthrough the house were so warm that the water was tepid at best. Still, it did enough to lower my body temperature a little, although putting out the fire in my loins was going to take a lot more than a lukewarm shower.

I was confused, my emotions scrambled.

I had come here to douse Lovesong with guilt, to heap my hate on him, to blame him for killing Joel.

And yet, the more I saw him, the more I wanted to be in his presence…

The more I wanted to hear his voice…

The more I wanted him close.

I wanted him to touch me again, and not just my face.

I wanted his hands to caress my shoulders, feel their way down my chest, reach for my—

I looked down to see my erection straining, the water cascading over it and splashing down my legs.

I closed my eyes and pretended my hands were not my own, but his.

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