Addicted (Mischief Books) by Stein Charlotte

Author:Stein, Charlotte [Stein, Charlotte]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-01-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

That word is in my head now, and it can’t easily be removed. Soon, I think, soon, as I sip my hot chocolate before bed, or attempt to get on with my job in the place he once was. He pulled me to pieces at this desk yesterday, I think to myself, and then that word just slithers its way back in. It suggests all kinds of things, from fucking to feelings to all the stuff I want him to tell me … and all the stuff he won’t.

And worse:

I can’t wait for any of it. Soon is not soon enough. I’m beyond that stage of trying to keep my sanity, and all the way into I don’t give a fuck – which is probably how I find myself at his door, again, despite my lack of excuses. I’m not here for the book, or because he looped a noose around my neck with some mystery.

I’m here because I want to be.

I want to be.

I want to be so much that my heart actually soars in my chest when he opens the door. And, even more alarming, I think the same thing might be happening to him, too. He actually goes up on tiptoe and his face does this crazy thing – this beaming-like-a-ray-of-sunshine thing.

Then, just when I’m doubting my sanity for believing such a thing, he falls on me. He falls on me and kisses me like I’m the Second Coming, if the Second Coming was something you greeted with groping. His tongue is in my mouth before we’ve even said hello, but of course that thought just excites me.

I’m actually beyond words with another human being. We don’t need to speak. We just need to kiss. We communicate through our tongues in each other’s mouth, and our hands all over the other person’s body. My fingers digging into his ass mean I missed you, his palms sliding underneath my shirt and over my back mean I missed you more.

And I’m so sure about this – absolutely, impossibly sure in a way I’ve never been before – that I’m quite startled when he pulls away. I thought we were on the same page, but apparently I was wrong.

Very wrong.

‘Whoa, hey,’ he says. ‘Why don’t we … uh … why don’t we …’

I hope he means to end that sentence with ‘have sex’. But to my horror he doesn’t. He wants to do the thing I thought we didn’t need to, for some inexplicable reason.

‘Maybe we should just talk, for a second,’ he says, in a way that should make me feel like a complete fool. He’s turned me into the guy, in this scenario, so hungry for his body I’d climb on top of it without a word of negotiation – and I should be mortified.

But when I go to check the box marked embarrassment inside me, it’s not there any more. I rifle through pages and pages of me, from falling flat on my face during P.E. to that time my boob popped out of the dress that Lori lent me, but there’s no shame to be found.

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