Page 151 of Chalk Outline
“Not quite.”
“Why is that?”
“You just sparked my appetite.”
“Well, I can always shove my cock into your mouth and give you a full meal,” he winks, content with himself.
I cup his clean-shaven face, letting my finger brush the various earrings in his ear as I hold his loving gaze. “Truth or dare?”
“I just did your dare, so truth.” He adjusts his hands above my shoulders while still holding his legs in the air.
“Did you put garlic in the sauce because it makes me gassy?”
“Oh, shit.”
“Indeed.”
“I wanted to try some of the herbs I’ve been growing in the garden, but I might have gone too far, and your stomach is so sensitive,” he thinks aloud.
“You might want to inhale through your mouth,” I say before I burst into laughter as I watch the colors drain from his face.
“Oh my god, Winona, I tried to be romantic and you farted on me.”
“That’s a fart of love to keep you warm. I blew you a kiss backward.” I laugh my ass off on the floor as he hoists himself back up and chugs the glass of water from the table. “I just mark my territory, okay?”
“Stinky Little Demon, we need to build a bonfire and cleanse the tower,” he teases.
“That’s an excuse to extend our date. You can just say you’re having the time of your life with me.” I smirk and get up as well.
“I will if I don’t die first.”
“That’s your fault. You knew this from the first day you shoved garlic bread in my mouth when we hung out. I like it, but my body doesn’t.” I peel myself off the floor and stand up. “You did promise to take me for a walk through the forest, though.”
“You weren’t a good girl.” He pins me down with one savage look that knocks all the air out of my lungs, but I don’t let it show.
I give him my most adorable smile, squeezing my hands together over my stomach and rocking my leg from side to side. “You never break your promises.”
“Oh, Baby.” He starts striding my way, closing the gap in seconds. “How right you are, and then…” his hand comes up to grip my throat—my hair tie hangs around his wrists—his ringed fingers wrapping around my neck one after the other, “so fucking wrong.”
“No fucking,” I warn.
He nods. “I won’t fuck you, but my fingers might.”
I shake my head before he grips my jaw firmly with his forefinger and thumb, forcing me to look up at him.
“You didn’t tell me what your new favorite song is.” I try to stall.
“Nice try.”
“Come on, Reeve. I want to know everything I missed,” I beg, keeping my innocent voice.
“All you need to know is that for three years, you were my favorite song, my favorite movie, my favorite food, and my favorite everything. Now, get on your fucking knees.”
“No…”
“You won’t let me use that pretty little mouth?”
“Please,” the word sounds like a plea, but I’m uncertain about what I truly want. I keep watching his dark expression through my lashes. My heart hammers against my ribcage as adrenaline rushes through my body.
