Page 254 of Hunger

“Oh, just my attempt at a bribe.”

“It may earn you five minutes of civility,” he warns with a smile.

“A fullfiveminutes?! I’ll take it!”

As my face tilts a little and his lips come into view, I fight back the hunger to taste them for fear that his family may be watching from an upstairs window or something, only for him to lose control, his breathing unsteady as he begins to inhale my skin, pulling me into him with such strength that all I can do is submit.

“What if they’re watching?” I whisper as the cab drives away and I move my hand to the side so that my pathetic little bunch of flowers doesn’t get squished by my giant of a date.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he rasps, running his lips up and down my cheek. He exhales the deepest of breaths, as if relief is flooding his body. “Mmm…” His lips and nose find my neck and I can’t help but try to pull away as his tongue licks the skin there in one long stroke.

A second later, he pulls me into him firmly and his tongue pries my lips apart, pushing inside, kissing and then veritably fucking my mouth, the movements of the strong muscle very slow, very deliberate, very sinful. My attempt to withdraw from his grasp is futile, not to mention that the deviance of his invasion soothes the jitters plaguing me.

By the time he withdraws his very talented undulating tongue from my mouth, my lips feel like a wet, swollen mess.

“It’s a good job I only put lip balm on,” I whisper as his eyes gleam lasciviously. “They might be watching, you know?”

“Good,” he replies, staring down at me, the beauty of his face, the lines of his cheekbones undercut by the light from above, stunning me. He peers all around. “I’m half-tempted to fuck you against the side wall of their house just to piss them off.”

Despite my amusement, I can’t help but push against the firm wall of his chest. “Okay, let’s calm down. You wanting to stick it to your parents isn’t worth the public indecency charge.”

“I mainly want to stick it to you, Indigo,” he whispers, arousal making his voice grate as pleasure replaces the worse of my nerves.

“Okay, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but one of us needs to engage their brain here. And for once, that’ll be me.”

He stands back up straight, bright eyes aglitter until a frown casts shadows beneath them. “What’s with the hair?”

My hand reaches for the neat bun it took me over ten minutes to try to get right earlier. “Well, I thought we could break them in gently given your mom’s tastes and all.”

His eyes form tight slits. “Turn around.”

“No! I want to keep my hair up tonight.”

“Turn around, Indigo. I’m making the decisions regarding your hair tonight.”

“God, my inner feminist hates some of the stuff you say.”

“Good. She’s supposed to despise me.”

I turn and feel his hands on my bun, pulling bobby pins out and threading my hair out of its elastic band until I feel it loosen, finally falling down my back. I glance down. In the ethereal light of the ornate-looking street lamps on this lane, it looks pinker than ever.

“Oh God,” I moan, turning back around and lifting the tips of my hair up with my free hand. “Your mom’s gonna love this.”

“She’ll survive,” he responds, handing me the hair accessories he removed so that I can drop them into a side pocket of my purse.

“Well”—I glance down at my coat—“I’m wearing this God-awful body-shrouding navy dress underneath this, so hopefully she’ll approve of that. I feel like a freaking nun under here.”

“A very naughty nun, Indigo. I’ll make sure to rip it off you later so that you don’t have to wear it ever again.”

As he conjures up the words about what he’s going to do to me tonight, I can’t help the sheepish smile that comes over me, one that brightens his stunning, strong features.

His fingers weave into my hair as he leans down, eyes tunneling into mine. My lips part as his nestle close to my ear, allowing him to inhale my scent.

“Did you think of me?” he asks breathlessly.

“What do you think?”

“Answer the fucking question.”

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