Page 83 of Just Shred

He snorts and stares out toward the mountains in the distance. “I don’t know why I don’t let anyone in, babe, but I do know no one listens to Styx.” He laughs.

“Shut up. They’re a classic band,” I counter, flipping him the bird. Nobody messes with my music taste.

“If you’re fifty,” he says, changing the song.

“If you came here to piss on my record collection, there is the door.” I fake pout, and he chuckles while Post Malone fills the room.

“So, you were saying you don’t do relationships? What makes you think I’m looking for one?”

“Isn’t everyone?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never really had one.”

He starts to laugh. “Me neither.”

“You came all this way to tell me that?” I smile while he puts on another song.

He pushes his hair out of his eyes. “No, I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time. This is no different.”

“Except for the stalking part,” I tease.

“Yeah, that one is new.”

“That makes two of us.” I smile. “You did know how to make me burn and leave me hanging back at the motel. I think we’re even, then?” I giggle.

He flips me off, and I laugh.

“This isn’t going how I planned it would,” he mutters, leaning against the mantel.

I rest my arms on my knees and watch his eyes dance around the room before they land on me.

He starts to pace in front of the fireplace. “Fuck if I know. Whenever I’m around you, and you look at me with those damn eyes of yours,” he begins. “And lick your damn lips like you’re doing now, or I hold your sweaty hands going down the mountain,” he growls, and I stop licking my lips. “I can’t be walking around with a permanent hard on while I fantasize about fucking you up on the mountain straight out of Twilight.”

I snort. “Mister I Don’t Watch Classics actually saw that one?”

“Yeah, don’t start, babe. We can do our little dance the whole night. I like fighting with you over pointless shit. You are on my mind the whole damn day, but I can’t afford to be distracted,” he grumbles and gives me a cool, menacing look.

I pretend to lock my mouth and mimic throwing away the key.

He plops his ass down next to me. Without saying anything, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the fluffy cushions.

“Damn, babe, stop looking at me like that,” he whispers, opening one eye.

“Like what?” I ask, staring at his beautiful features, sharp cheekbones, dark eyebrows, and permanent stubble.

“Like I’m boyfriend material,” he groans.

“Trust me, I wasn’t,” I reply drily.

He arches an eyebrow, and one side of his mouth hitches higher. His eyes narrow. “My plans go out the window when it comes to you,” he says, mumbling expletives under his breath. He crosses his arms and stares deep into my eyes, a smug grin playing on his lips. “You know I’ve only known you for about two weeks, give or take. And I can’t stop thinking about you. I lost my train of thought in the pipe because of you.” He scratches at his chin, like he’s trying to find the right words to say. “I fucking jerk off to you in the damn shower when I should be focusing on my upcoming competition,” he growls. His smile is pure evil and the look in his eyes says he either wants to fuck me, or run as far away from me as possible.

“That’s very sweet of you,” I counter.

“It’s bad, babe,” he says, flopping his wrist in my face to underline his point. “Maybe you should kiss my dick later and make it all better?”

“You’re crazy,” I say and push his face away.

His voice is low and rough when he says, “But all kidding aside, you throw me off my game.”

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