Page 4 of Insatiable

I wouldn’t mind watching her body move, to see her in her element. I bet she moves beautifully too.

Stop.

I light another smoke since she finished mine, eyeing her every few seconds as we sit in silence.

Stacey.

A name for the mystery girl.

“What age are you?” I ask.

She smiles at me, and shit, I’ve never liked someone’s smile before. I find myself faintly smiling back at her.

“I just turned fifteen. Same as you.”

Same as you.

The three words have me wanting to know more about her.

Her grin grows when I hum, a dimple denting deep in her cheek, and she looks away and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Butterflies, I think.

I wonder if she feels them too?

I must be ill. I’ll need to ask Mum what the fuck is wrong with me.

“You sound AmericanandScottish,” she says. “So does Luciella.”

We spend a lot of time in America visiting our father. It was only natural we picked up the accent over the years. Mine is a lot stronger and deeper.

Hearing people yelling for Stacey, I sigh, knowing our meeting is about to be cut short.

As much as I’d love to sit here and stare at her like a creep, I need to leave before she thinks I’m a weirdo trying to chase some girl I don’t even know.

“Giving you a heads-up,” I begin, flicking the cigarette into the grass as soon as I see my sister’s blonde head. I narrow my eyes. Even though I don’t want to say the next words that leave my mouth, my impulsiveness wins. “Just because you’re my sister’s friend doesn’t mean you can speak to me. Stay the fuck out of my way.”

As I turn to leave, she lets out a mocking laugh.

“Funny,” she snaps back, and I halt in my tracks, brows knitting together as I glance over my shoulder at her.

She pops out her hip and crosses her arms. “And cute. I was just about to say the same thing to you. So why don’t you stay the fuck out of my way,Kade?”

I like the way my name sounds on her tongue.

I smirk, loving this side of her. “Or else what?”

Ah, fuck. Freckles is even prettier when she’s mad.

The butterflies are going fucking wild, and I have no idea how to repress the feeling.

She barges into me with her shoulder, and I can’t stop the grin pulling at my lips as she marches away with my sister.

Her scent lingers, her dark hair bouncing down her back, but she keeps facing forward, refusing to give me that one last look at her I’m desperate for – until she’s about to vanish down the pathway among the trees, when she turns and gives me the middle finger.

Fucking hell. Why am I smiling?

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