Page 100 of The First Time
This is the cutest I've ever looked.
But I still feel outclassed.
The lobby of this Beverly Hills celebrity hangout is full of models and actresses who are taller, thinner, bustier, or prettier than I am.
Nerves rise up in my throat as my eyes pass over Kit. He's sitting in the back corner of the lobby, his eyes on his cell, his dark curly hair hanging over his face. Every molecule in my body wants to dig my hands into that hair.
Every inch of me wants to climb into his lap and beg him to make me forget we have an audience.
Mal nods to the host stand. "Give me a minute."
Gladly. I make my way to Kit's spot in the back of the lobby and sit next to him.
My knee rubs against the fabric of his slacks. He's wearing slacks. Not jeans. Not even motorcycle boots.
He's dressed up.
For me.
He wants to be with me.
Damn, I'm hot. "Hey."
"Hey." He slides his cell into his pocket and turns towards me. His knee brushes against mine.
Heat races through my body as his fingers brush my outer thigh. "You're not wearing motorcycle boots."
Kit's dark eyes light up as he chuckles. "Thanks for noticing."
He leans closer. His knee slides between my legs.
"Or jeans." I bite my lip. I press my palms into my thighs so I won't feel the fabric of his slacks. "Same black button up shirt."
"You starting a fashion blog?" He cocks a brow.
"No. Just. I, um..." My hands refuse to listen to my brain. My fingers brush the top of his thigh. The fabric is soft. Thin. And he goes commando. Ahem. "You look really nice. Handsome. Extra handsome."
"Thank you."
"You're supposed to say I look nice," I tease.
He gives me a quick once over. For a split second, his eyes linger on my chest. Then they're back on my eyes. "You look gorgeous." He leans in to whisper. "But you already knew that."
I shake my head.
He leans close enough his breath warms my ear. "Bullshit."
My cheek brushes against his as I lean in to whisper. "Look around. I'm out of my weight class here."
"You shouldn't fish for compliments." He brushes my hair from my shoulder. "You know you're a pretty girl."
Maybe. But I still want to hear him say it. I want to know he wants me. I take a deep breath. I keep my voice even. "I don't want to be pretty. I want to be sexy."
His fingers skim my waist. He leans in to whisper. "You're fucking irresistible, Piper." He pulls back. His dark eyes fix on mine. "But we're here to celebrate school. We should talk about your mind, not your body."
"If I'm going to be an actor, my body will be one of my tools. How I look will matter."
"Does that bother you?"
