Page 46 of Soul So Dark
Slowly, I raise my arm, beckoning to her with a nod of my head. It’s like waiting to see if a cat will run away if you make any sudden movements. She hesitates at first, but then sinks into my side, resting the side of her face on my chest as she exhales. Then she tucks her hands up at her chest, curling into my torso. And when I turn my head, an intense floral fragrance laced with cedar hits my nostrils. It comes out of nowhere and, almost on reflex, I press my nose into her onyx hair and take a slow, agonizing breath.
Why does it smell so good?
Fuck, I hope she doesn’t move because now I’m getting high on her goddamn hair.
“You don’t have to be a prick to be angry,” I murmur with a smile. “You can still be Dallas in Sen’s Fortress.”
She doesn’t answer, but her muscles relax the longer she rests against me. The silence feels familiar and comforting—uncomplicated.Until, finally, my breathing gets heavier, and then everything goes black.
I don’t remember what time I fall asleep, probably around the time Roddy McDowall discovers Evil Ed turned into a werewolf and starts melting all over the front hallway after being skewered by a wooden spindle. But when I wake up, I’ve slid down in the bed, the pillow at my shoulders rather than the middle of my back.
When I move to reach for my phone, I realize that Dallas is laying on my arm, asleep. She’s on her side, her shoulder rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. Her long, wavy black hair frames her face, falling over her shoulder onto mine. I glance down at my phone. 11:37—I haven’t been asleep that long.
Slowly, I roll onto my side, studying her round cheeks and full lips hanging slightly ajar. I’ve never seen her this still, and now she doesn’t even seem real.
I lift my hand and give a lock of her hair a slight twirl, gently wrapping the end around my finger. The shade looks a lot like mine, black as coal, but not dark enough to have the blue tint that Aiden’s does. I keep twirling my finger, eventually letting it fall back onto the bed.
Barely thinking, I trail my finger up to the side of her face, brushing her hair away from her eye. And then, suddenly, I’m overcome with the intense curiosity of what it’s like to be Dallas Lutz. She’s nothing like Colson. Well, maybe a little like Colson after hearing what she’s doing to Rory, but maybe she’s only so covert about it because she’s half Colson’s size. He can get away with a lot by being 6’4”.
I let my hand fall, brushing my thumb down her cheek so gently that she doesn’t stir. But I hesitate at her mouth. Slowly, I trace the edge of her lips, barely touching her skin. Something sparks deep in my gut as I let my thumb fall down the center of her lip, revealing the edges of her glistening white teeth. As soon as I let it go, she sucks in a breath and shifts. Her leg hitches and her knee bumps into my torso before she settles again.
I don’t know what it is, but now I can’t look away. Her hair, her lips, her big eyes, deep and beguiling…
She’s stunning.
My hand falls from her face down to her waist where her shirt’s riding up enough to reveal her navel. Refusing to acknowledge the gnawing feeling in the back of my mind, I follow the dramatic curve of her hip, over her shorts, to the back of her thigh.
It’s a bad idea, which is why I don’t think too hard about it while my mind is still foggy with sleep.
My fingers hit the curve of her ass and I bite my lip, staring straight ahead at her closed eyes. When she doesn’t move, I slip them underneath the edge of her shorts and she lets out a breath followed by the smallest moan. It’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to my dick and it feels like my lungs are filled with cement.
What the fuck…
Suddenly, she shifts again and I pull my hand away, rolling onto my back. She jostles her hips and her eyes slowly open.
“Hey, Dal,” I say in the same hushed tone I’ve had since I set foot in this room. As soon as I say it, a smile pulls her cheeks so wide that she looks away. “What?” I ask.
“Um,” her voice cracks as she rolls closer, “you know the sound soda makes after you pour it into a cup and it makes that high-pitched hissing sound before it finally stops fizzing?”
“Yeah, actually,” I smile. Because I do.
She hesitates, like she’s deciding whether to continue. “That’s how you make me feel when you say my name like that.”
It spreads through my ribs like a slow burn, a feeling I can’t describe that tugs at every fiber the longer I stay in this room. But before I can think too much about it, there’s a faint clicking and then a sharp noise suddenly cuts through the silence. I jerk my head up to the sound of someone knocking on Dallas’s door.
“Dallas…” Colson’s deep voice reverberates against the wood before there’s another jiggle of the doorknob.
Shit, shit, shit…
I roll over and sit up, moving as quickly and silently as I can to the end of the bed. Dallas rolls over in the other direction and climbs off the bed, trying to find her footing as she stands up. There’s another rap on the door and Colson calls her name again, this time with a hint of exasperation.
“Hold on,” she calls back, staggering around the end of the bed to the window.
Not bothering to put on my boots and risk making any noise, I grab the edge of the window and gently slide it up the track. Fortunately, it’s relatively silent and I step out over the sill as soon as it catches at the top. Dallas pulls the cream curtain to the side, holding it out of the way as I straddle the frame.
“Dallas!” Colson barks through the door.
She clenches her jaw and jerks her head around, glaring at the door. “Holdon!” she barks back with the same irritated tone.
