Page 96 of You Rock My World
The tension isn’t gone, but it’s softened under his ridiculousness. He knows what he’s doing, peeling my mind from the spiral I’ve been stuck in.
And it works.
I shake my head, still laughing, and somehow my knee ends up brushing his. Dorian registers the change and he’s not teasing anymore as he scoops up my legs and moves them on his lap, pulling me close so that I end up nestled against his side.
I don’t resist the shift as his fingers hook around my ankle, his thumb circling over the bone and shooting tingles up my leg. Above, with the hand still draped over the couch, he catches a lock of my hair. He twists it once, then again. He keeps twisting my hair as if he isn’t aware he’s doing it. I wet my lips, and his gaze drops, tracking the movement. His fingers unwind from my hair only to skim lower, his knuckles grazing the side of my face, light as a breath. When he looks back up at me, a silent question swirls in his irises:Will you stop me if I kiss you?
I won’t. I can’t. Not now that I know what he tastes like, how his mouth moves.
I don’t mean to, but I lean in closer. And so does he. His grip tightens over my ankle as if to say,Stay.
I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I keep still as his nose brushes mine. His lips part, and I tilt my head, ready to claim his mouth—when his phone rings.
Loud. Obnoxious. Crashing through the moment like a wrecking ball.
Dorian groans but doesn’t pull back. His forehead drops against mine, with a frustrated, “Seriously?”
I bite my lip, exhaling. “You should take it.”
“I’m a little busy right now.”
“How many people have your personal number?”
He sighs, eyes half-lidded, mouth an inch from mine. “Only a few.”
“Then shouldn’t you answer, in case it’s something urgent?”
“They can leave a message.” The phone stops ringing, and he smiles. “See? Problem solved.”
He hasn’t even finished speaking when the ringtone starts again.
Dorian closes his eyes and curses under his breath. “This better be fucking life or death.” Then he smacks a chaste kiss on my lips, and mutters, “Later.”
Dorian grabs his phone off the coffee table, barking, “What?”
I hear Tessa’s voice on the other side of the line, urgent and clipped, even before he puts her on speaker. “Billie just dropped a new single.”
Dorian straightens, his face darkening. “So what?”
“It’s a diss song. You should listen to it.”
I stiffen.
“Okay, Tess, thanks. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
Dorian and I exchange a look before he pulls up a streaming service. While he presses play, I pull up the lyrics to read them on my phone.
(Oh, you thought I was done?)
You traded fire for smoke, baby, look where you landed.
A shallow spark that fizzles—barely worth being branded.
Tried to paint your new picture, but it’s cracking at the seams,
Your frame’s all shiny, but it’s holding broken dreams.
You said you found your better, but the better’s all fake.
