Page 31 of Wild Eyes
West must realize that he can’t hear her footsteps because he swiftly turns and catches her giving me that look. “Get gone, kid.” He raises his voice, but his tone is all exasperation and playfulness.
She laughs and barrels up the stairs as he groans and turns his attention back to me.
“Got your hands full with that one,” I say with a chuckle.
He scrubs a hand over his face. I can hear the bristles of his beard against his palm, and it draws my attention to his full lips. Shapelier than any man has the right to have. People would pay good money for lips like his. My brain is a horny little slut today, and she wonders what it would feel like to have those lips on my body.
I’m jolted back to the present as he grumbles, “Don’t I fucking know it. Love her to bits, but good lord, that girl will be the death of me.”
“Well, she didn’t bother me at all, but maybe…” I bite down on my lip, hard enough that it could leave a dent. “Maybe we should exchange numbers? Just in case she finds herself at my place again? Then I could drop you a line, so you don’t worry.”
He studies me, keen blue irises bouncing between my eyes as though he’s searching for more answers. As though he’s searching for a clue. I hope he can’t tell I was thinking about his lips. Suddenly, I feel like I have my innermost thoughts written on my forehead in blocky capital letters for him to read.
“Yeah, sure, that seems like a smart idea,” he answers, but he doesn’t look into my eyes when he says it. Instead, his gaze drops to my lips, and I can’t help but turn my attention back to his.
His tongue darts out over the full bottom one, and I drink him in from top to bottom. Chiseled pecs to his narrow waist and that delicious V shape that makes me want to run my tongue over his hips. I glance quickly over the bulge in his tight boxers, trying not to be too obvious before I make my way down. His legs, his calves, his feet—everything about Weston Belmont is so goddamn masculine I can hardly stand it.
“You done gawking? Or should I flex while I wait for you to pull that phone out and take my number?”
I start. And then I turn red.
God, I’m embarrassing.
“Yeah, sorry. I lost my train of thought there for a second.”
Now it’s his turn to bite down on his bottom lip, his cheeks pinching up in a knowing smirk. “Yeah, that train was a runaway all right.”
“I have no idea what you mean. I was only checking to see if you have razor burn from shaving your chest,” I say as I scramble to reach for the phone in my back pocket.
Google alerts and angry texts litter the screen. My anxiety surges. There’s a grainy photo of me talking to an airline agent at the airport with the headline,Skylar Stone throws fit to sit in first class. “Fucking assholes,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?”
I smile blandly. “Headline. Apparently politely asking if there were any upgrades for my flight here is throwing a fit.” I roll my eyes. Trying to act more unaffected than I feel.
I swipe past, vowing not to read the whole thing until I’m in bed. I swipe through the screens, mumbling, “For the record, I sat in economy. Middle seat. Not a single fucking complaint,” as I pull up a new contact. I type his name in without glancing back up, though I can see his amused smirk from the corner of my eye.
He’s distracting.
“Okay, I’m ready for the number.”
With a deep chuckle, he recites it to me, and my fingers tap across the screen.
“Great, well, great.” I turn quickly to walk away. “See you tomorrow.” I wave nervously over my shoulder, hating myself for checking him out so blatantly.
He doesn’t take a hint, and he doesn’t lay off.
“Hey, fancy face!” he shouts. “You can take a photo of me like this for my contact card if you want!”
But I don’t turn back to take a photo.
Instead, I hustle faster, to get away from West and his chiseled fuckingeverythingbefore that horny little slut in my head turns around and takes him up on his offer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SKYLAR
It’sthe prospect of being chewed on by a mouse while I sleep that keeps me from drifting off.
