Page 7 of A Different Form of Oxygen
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. You’re letting all the cold air out. Are you going to give me my stuff or keep bragging about how awesome you are? Most heroes don’t actually like to take credit for their good deeds.”
I cock my head to the side, letting out a huff of air. “You know, most people are usually nicer to their heroes. You aren’t going to even invite me in for a cup of tea?”
He arches a brow. “Did you want to come in for a cup of tea?”
“Depends on the tea.”
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “You know what, I’m going inside. Feel free to follow me or leave my stuff on the end table and close the door behind you.”
I slowly enter Ben’s house, taking in the subtle grey picture-less walls and white furniture with little décor surrounding it. I’ve been to Ben’s house before but never really paid attention to the inside, since it was usually flooded with people. Ben is leaning against his kitchen counter, and pulls out the food from the paper sack after I set it on the black granite. He shoves each bite into his mouth, flicking his tongue across his perfect pink lips in between each piece. Bringing attention to his Adams apple, his skin appears soft with a golden glow. I wonder what it would be like to kiss him there. With the unexpected flowing desire, I can’t stop my lips from trembling with need.
Seeing Ben dressed down with his hair flowing freely, getting cheese on his lips and moaning around his kolache makes me forget why I wanted to stay away from him to begin with.
I’mintrigued by this person staring at me with melting eyes, open and honest in a way I've never seen before.
The loud clearing of Ben’s throat pulls me from my thoughts. “Are you going to just stand there staring at me this whole time or are you going to say something?”
With my elbows resting on the counter, I prop my chin on my closed fists. “I’m still waiting on the tea I was promised.”
Ben glowers at me before shoving more food into his mouth. “Who said you were getting tea? I’m pretty sure that was your suggestion, not mine.”
“You really shouldn’t talk with food in your mouth.”
He mocks my words with the movement of his lips. “If I get you your tea, will you stop being a pain in my ass?”
I move closer to him, within touching distance. “Depends. Being a pain in someone’s ass isn’t always a bad thing.”
He goes still beneath the touch of my thumb swiping remaining crumbs from his lips. His skin is soft beneath mine and I badly want to know what it feels like against my mouth. He stands there, frozen in front of me, as if me touching him sent him into a trance. If I were to tell him to bend over the counter for me, would he?
