Page 17 of Lavender and Lust

My heart pounds in my chest, sending a surge of blood rushing straight to my cheeks and burning them a scarlet red.

The truth is, during our senior year, I was insanely jealous.

Of Violet.

When he started dating her, he stopped paying as much attention to me, and as much as our constant back and forth had driven me crazy sometimes, when it suddenly stopped, my vulnerable eighteen-year-old heart broke just a little from the loss.

But that’s something I never want him to know, and I intend to take that bit of information to my grave.

Schooling my features, I prop my hands on my hips and jut my chin, attempting to plaster on a steely resolve. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was never jealous.”

“Oh, really?” he muses, his green eyes burning into mine like lasers penetrating through a reinforced steel plate. “Then why are you blushing, Mac?”

My cheeks burn hotter and I’m about two seconds away from dunking my head in the sink just to cool them off.

Glancing at the sink, I ponder the idea for a moment. It certainly would deflect the conversation, even if the act itself would have him questioning my sanity.

Goddammit. Why do I always blush so easily? I need to redirect this conversation and fast. Sifting through my brain, the memories of the events that transpired in the kitchen this morning comes flooding back, reminding me of a particular situation I still hadn’t taken care of.

That damn phone of his.

“For your information, I’m angry, not blushing,” I declare adamantly. “And while we’re at it, we have another matter to discuss.”

“We do? And what’s that?”

“Your phone,” I say, holding my hand out and wiggling my fingers. “Give it to me.”

He lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah right.”

“Oh, come on,” I whine. “You don’t want my voice being on there any more than I do.”

“On the contrary, I do. In fact, I’ve also set it as my alarm tone. That shit will have me up and out of bed in a flash, thinking someone is being slaughtered in my apartment.”

Anger blazes through my veins, locking my jaw up tight. “Owen, give me your damn phone,” I snarl through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t you come and get it?” he taunts, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the sink, crossing an ankle over his foot. “That’s if you can find it, of course,” he adds with a waggle of his eyebrows, and I immediately scan his body in search of any telltale signs of where it might be hidden.

My eyes zero in on his loose pants, where I can still see the distinct outline of a phone sitting in his right pocket. However, there’s also a distinct outline of something else which just so happens to be situated precariously close to his phone, and the sight of it has my mouth running dry.

Crap. If I stick my hand in that pocket, there’s a good chance I may just accidentally touch his dick, and the thought of actually catching a feel of it suddenly makes my skin feel hot.

“What are you waiting for, Mac?” He continues to taunt me, the daring gleam in his eyes fueling my strength.

Taking a step forward, he watches me carefully as I approach, the air around us suddenly becoming thick with anticipation as I run through each and every possible scenario in my head.

He’s not going to make this easy on me. His laid-back disposition right now is merely a ruse. He’s luring me under the false pretense that this will be a piece of cake, but knowing Owen, it will be anything but. He has a plan. I’m not entirely sure what that is, but I have no doubt I will find out very soon.

So with that in mind, I keep my expression neutral and movements steady as I brace myself to launch my attack at the exact right moment. His eyes darken as I close in, and with the hopes of catching him off guard, I lunge forward and attempt to shove my hand into his pocket.

But as usual, the guy is likeThe Flash, jacked up on cotton candy and quickly darts out of the way, ripping his phone out and holding it above his head.

“Nice try,” he teases with a mocking chuckle. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Ugh!” I growl, ready to pull my hair out in frustration.

That’s it!

I’ve officially had enough. I’m getting that damn phone off him even if I have to commit homicide. I’ve watched enough episodes ofCSI. I know everything there is to know on ways to successfully dispose of a body and cover up the evidence.

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