Burn by Scarlett Parrish

Author:Scarlett Parrish [Parrish, Scarlett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781619375215
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

James sipped his tea, maintaining that two-handed grip until the last drop was gone. He drank tea like he sucked cock.

Everything was done with enthusiasm. The offer for me to wander round his place, observe his soft furnishings and other framed photographs. Rinsing out his mug straight after drinking from it. "I operate an empty sink policy. I don't leave dishes to sit overnight. I can't lie awake in bed thinking about things I've left half-done."

"Speaking of bed..." I winked.

"I'm very glad you didn't take the easy way out and accuse me of being anal."

"As if. My jokes aren't that cheap. There's no value in the punch lines if they're handed to you on a plate. Especially when a guy confesses to lying awake at night thinking about dirty dishes and other chores?"

"No chores tonight, though."

"And hopefully no simply lying awake." Very little sleep, I hoped. None of it down to stress keeping either of us awake.

He left Homer Simpson upturned on the draining board and heaved out a deep breath, an exhalation to punctuate the pleasantries of before and move us on to whatever came after. After a moment he looked at me as he leaned on the countertop with both hands, his head turned to the side.

I noticed the quick down-up of his eyes before they met mine. And there it was. The hesitation, the silent wondering, okay, what now? The "what now" was pretty damn obvious; the real question was who would make the first move.

Scarlett Parrish There was no need for either of us to be embarrassed as such, especially with what we'd already been up to that evening, so maybe we were both hesitant to shake off that polite friendliness and move to the good stuff.

God knew why. I'd already acknowledged my fear of damn polite friendliness.

"Here." I whispered the word, and it still managed to sound like a command. Even as I lifted my hand, let it hover in midair, he dipped his head. I thought for a moment he wanted me to stroke his hair, run my hand down the back of his neck, but he'd taken a moment to stare at his feet, brace himself and look up at me again.

James stepped closer and that fleeting thought I'd just had returned.

He suppressed a shudder when I took his earlobe between my finger and thumb, my other fingertips brushing his neck. Barely suppressed, because I still felt something; tightly corded tension under the skin like he was trying not to let go. Or preparing to do so. The softness of his hair surprised me; any cold air from outside which might have settled on him had long since gone and I wanted to know what his skin felt like. On every part of him. For now, though, I settled for curving my palm around his neck, letting the tips of my fingers waver slightly as skin met skin.

Tension bled out of him, like he'd been waiting for me to do that all night, and it was only one hand.

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