Page 35 of Glitter Rose
“Your eye.” His fingers wander higher. “The way you notice details. The glitter. The nails. Even now, when it shouldn’t matter.”
“It matters more now.” I reach for the wine bottle, refilling our glasses. “When everything’s ugly, beauty becomes rebellion.”
He nods like he understands, and maybe he does. “What else?”
“I wanted…” I’ve kept that even from Telly. “God, it’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
“A Tiffany engagement ring.” Heat floods my cheeks. “Not the diamond part necessarily, just… the blue box. That little blue box. I used to see them on Vibegrid all the time. Girls my age getting proposed to at landmarks, opening that perfect blue box.” I laugh at myself. “Told you. Stupid.”
His eyes soften. “Not stupid.”
“No?” I take another gulp of wine. “Just shallow, then.”
“Wanting symbols of love isn’t shallow. It’s human.” His hand moves higher, fingertips brushing the bare skin of mythigh below my dress. “The rituals matter. The symbols matter.”
“Even now?”
“Especially now.” His eyes lock with mine, something raw and honest in them that makes my chest ache. “The world’s gone to shit. What else is there but finding meaning where we can?”
A howl rips through the night, closer than usual, and the fine hairs on my arms stand at attention. Another howl answers the first, then another. Stupid Wolf-zombies, always hunting in packs.
I shiver despite the wine’s warmth. “I hate when they do that.”
He sets his glass on the coffee table, settling both hands on my legs. “They can’t get you up here.”
“I know that.” I place my glass beside his, crossing my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of how exposed I feel in this dress. “It’s… the sound. Like they’re calling to each other. Planning.”
“They’re not planning anything.” He moves closer, one arm sliding around my shoulders. “They’re just making noise.”
“You don’t know that.” I lean into him despite myself, my body betraying my need for contact. “Maybe they’re evolving. Getting smarter.”
“You’re safe here.”
The wine, the warmth of his body, the gentle pressure of his hand on my thigh… it all blurs together, making me dizzy with want.
I raise my face toward his, our mouths inches apart. “Am I?”
His eyes darken, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of gray remains. My fingers find the short hair at the nape of his neck, threading through it. He doesn’t turn away. Instead, hisfingers dig deeper into the flesh on my thigh while his breath fans across my lips, warm and wine-scented
This is happening. It’s actually happening.
I press my lips to his, softly at first, then with growing hunger as his arm tightens around me. The kiss is everything I’ve been imagining since he first crashed into my life. His lips are firm against mine, demanding yet somehow gentle.
I make a small sound in the back of my throat, something needy that would embarrass me if I weren’t so far gone. He tugs me closer, my body half-sprawled across his lap, the dress riding higher on my thighs. His hand slides up my back, tangling in my hair and tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
I gasp against his mouth when his tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. It’s like he can’t get enough, like he wants to memorize the taste of me. I open for him, meeting his tongue with mine, and he rewards me with a deep groan that rumbles through his chest.
I arch against him, desperate for more contact. His stubble scrapes deliciously against my skin as his mouth leaves mine to trace a burning path down my neck.
“Knox.”
He freezes.
His hands grip my waist, but now they’re pushing instead of pulling. He lifts his head, eyes closed, jaw tight.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, my lips still tingling.
