Page 18 of Vigilante
Once I see Max in my apartment, my fears ease. He looks at me like I’m an exquisite piece of art that belongs in a museum despite my insecurities.
“I can’t stay for long,Bella, but I had to make sure you were alright.”
Opening the first box of pizza, I snag one of the pieces with everything on it, inhaling the delicious cheesy scent. “I’m okay. And it turns out that I’m free this weekend.”
His dark eyes glitter with glee, and I wonder if, somehow, he already knew that.
“Be ready at 8 a.m. Dress warm.” He instructs.
The brat inside me wants to fight back, but he pulls his mask off and takes a bite of the pizza in my hands. “Hey!” I say, pulling my piece back to safety. “That’s mine. There are four boxes over there. Get your own.”
He swallows thickly, and I watch his prominent Adam’s apple bob.Why the fuck is that so hot?
“Yeah, but now, when you take a bite, it’ll be from a piece my mouth has touched.”
I flush as he steps closer to me, his hands finding my waist.
When Ned grabbed me earlier, I wanted to crawl out of my skin, but with Max, it feels right, like I belong in his arms.
I take a bite, and he watches me as my mouth closes around the cheesy goodness. My eyes flutter close as the flavors meld over my tastebuds. A small moan of appreciation escapes my throat.
His hands grip around my hips tighter, digging into my flesh. When I look up at him, his eyes flicker down to my lips as I swallow the bite down.
“Delicious,” I say with a small smile.
He dips down and takes my mouth with his. It’s urgent and demanding. I drop the piece I’m holding and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me.
I find myself pressed into the wall behind me, my hips meeting his. The unmistakable bulge from his pants digs into me, and my eyes fly open at the impressive length. My fingers rake through the hair at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, and I’m bereft. There are too many layers of clothes between us.
A high-pitched ringtone comes from his back pocket, and he stills. Our breathing is labored as we stare at each other.
“Fuck. I have to?—”
“It’s fine.”
Regret lingers in his gaze before he peels himself off of me. I miss him immediately.
“Until tomorrow,Bella. Eight o’clock. Don’t forget.”
He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it, leaving the imprint of his lips on my tingling skin long after he’s gone.
Fuck me. Tasha is right. I am in trouble.
The crooning sound of Lana Del Rey is blaring from my phone speaker as I apply a second layer of mascara to my eyelashes in an attempt to make them look longer than they are. The effect works wonders around my green eyes, making their color pop. I want to look my best for the date today. There’s no mistaking it this time. It is definitely a date.
Blotting my lips with a cherry burgundy lipstick that matches my skirt, I replay that kiss from yesterday for the millionth time.
God, I can still feel his possessive hands on me. If we hadn’t been interrupted, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to stop. I didn’t want it to stop.
I’ve always had a clear head when it comes to dating. But this? My emotions muddle my every thought when I’m around him.
Once my hair is set in loose waves that cascade over my shoulders and down my back, I spritz my favorite signature scent that I reserve for special occasions. Warm amber with a hint of vanilla mixed with caramel.
I take one last look in the mirror, spinning around to get the full 360 effect. I didn’t know what to expect, so I dressed inlayers. My tights cling to my legs, and my skirt gives it a flirty edge, while my cream-colored sweater offers some much-needed warmth, just in case he takes me somewhere outdoors. I opted for a simple brown pair of flats that never let me down. Heels in this city are a twisted ankle waiting to happen. He’s tall enough that I can pull off wearing them, but I don’t fancy an injury enough to risk it. The last time I wore heels, I ended up hobbling around like an injured baby bird for a week after.
Text me all the dirty updates.
Tasha messages, and I smile. She’d been kicking her feet in gleeful giddy when I told her about the pizzas, especially when I recruited her to help me get rid of the excess. I love pizza, but the thought of eating it for the next week made me queasy. Thankfully, she works with a host of dude-bros at her sports marketing firm who can demolish a pizza in one sitting.
