Page 7 of Poisonous Kiss
“I have an obsession with tuxedo ice cream sundaes but with pecans, not almonds.”
She side-eyes me, so I continue with my description.
“There’s something about the warm fudge and gooey white marshmallow that’s just mmmm,” I groan. “It’s too good to pass up.”
She rolls her eyes at me and laughs.
That little laugh could solve wars. I will die making her laugh as long as I get to hear it as I perish.
Wait, wait, wait. What the fuck am I thinking? Get your shit together, Ezra, she’s a means to an end.
Briar
“Nope, you can’t make me.”
“River, let’s go.”
“Ezra, no. I don’t have any shoes on.”
We pulled up to a shopping area, and now he’s standing on the sidewalk staring at me with the passenger door open. He can’t make me go anywhere. I’m not going in unless I have shoes, and because he dragged me out against my will, I am shoeless.
He is leaning into the car and staring at me. I’m staring straight ahead with my arms crossed over my chest in defiance.
“So now I’m standing here, and you don’t stare this way any longer?”
To prove my point that he doesn’t affect me, I unbuckle and turn in his direction only to realize I’m now face-to-face with him. We’re so close I can feel his breath hit my face. I look down at his full lips and he sucks his lower one into his mouth to bite it. He leans in slowly and just as I close my eyes to embrace the kiss, he grabs my arm and pulls.
“Wha…” I start as he squats and throws me over his shoulder.
I went from staring at lips to staring at ass. I mean, my view could be worse, but that’s not the point.
“PUT ME DOWN!” I scream.
“No can do, River.”
“My name isn’t River, you dickwad.”
He closes the car door and starts down the sidewalk.
I am kicking and screaming when he brings his hand up and spanks me. This man just spanked me, and why do I kind of want him to do it again?
“I told you I’m not going anywhere without shoes.”
“Unfortunately, although I know you wear a size seven and a half, I don’t know which you would like to wear today.”
That information is enough to make me pause in my tracks. How does he know my shoe size?
Just as I’m about to ask, he chuckles.
“You can ask how I know, but I can’t tell you.”
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“My informant wishes to remain anonymous.”
What the actual fuck? This man is creepy as hell. He must’ve guessed. Seven and a half is average for a woman, right?
We get to the store and walk in, and I lift my head to look around. All I see are walls and walls of heels. I pray that there’s some type of flat-soled shoe around because this chick does not do well in a set of heels.
