Page 146 of The Invite
A strange look flashes in her pupils and she chases it away. “They give a false sense of security. Maybe buying me food was just that.”
“Know a lot about kidnappers, little prey?”
“Thanks to you, I’m learning all about them,” she snipes.
“Shame,” I hum, patting her shoulders and arms. “I was aiming to teach about stalkers. It’s more my speed.”
Her hands ball into fists, trying for patience. I don’t hide my amusement. I’ll take a pissed Nessa any day over the broken girl hiding in the bathroom.
“Arms up.”
She lifts them without realizing and I secure the towel around her, tying it into a knot at the front. Grabbing an extra one, I dry her hair, watching her eyes drift shut as she enjoys the massage.
My gaze drops to her lips.
The memory of her trying to kiss me flares and a pang of lust squeezes my chest.
Kissing is too intimate.
Romantic.
Nothing about it excites me.
Yet I know kissingNessawill be nothing short of dangerous when the addiction is already high. One shot away from being tipped over the edge. And I don’t even know where I’ll land or what’s waiting on the other side.
Whipping my attention away from her mouth, I step back.
She sways, peering up at me with a tiny pinch between her eyebrows.
“Get dressed and come downstairs,” I tell her coldly. “We need to talk.”
Turning around, I walk out as abruptly as I came earlier and try to get a grip on myself by the time I reach her kitchen.
CHAPTER – 36
Nessa
I’ve never met a more mercurial man than Augustus Grayson.
Just as I become used to one side of his, he goes and unveils another. He can be soft and almost sweet sometimes and cold like the Arctic Circle in the next.
I reach downstairs after changing into a loosely fitted crewneck and matching shorts, loving how the cottony material feels against my skin. I try not to think Augustus bought them thinking of me in mind. Or that he didn’t miss any essentials in my wardrobe. I’m just surprised it all fits into my tiny closet.
Perhaps I should work on being more organized.
The first thing I notice as I enter the living room is the delicious aroma of the food, causing my stomach to growl. A reminder that I haven’t eaten anything besides a bowl of cereal since morning.
Augustus is just setting our plates on the low table and flicks his electric gaze on my face. I twirl the ends of my hair, which is still damp. With the way he stormed out after barking the order to dress, I didn’t want to test his patience by spending extra time to blow-dry it.
My skin is still tingling in all the places he caressed me.
It felt nice when he massaged my hair. No one’s ever touched or taken care of me so intimately. I blame it on my lackluster dating history.
Approaching the couch, I take a seat and glance at the plates. My mouth waters. He cooked macaroni and cheese for me. My nose wrinkles at the sight of broccoli beside it.
“You’ll eat it too,” sternly says Augustus, not missing my displeased expression. “It’s not optional.”
We’re caught in a staring contest.
