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“Uh, okay, I guess I’ll take mine off, and you can…” I stumble over the words as I walk in.
Before I can protest, she follows me, letting the heavy door click shut behind her. She locks the dead bolt and turns back around, hands on her hips.
“You first or me?” Her head cocks to the side.
I slowly start to unbutton again, feigning confidence despite the sweat breaking out on my lower back.
“Let’s do it together,” I suggest. My voice is hoarse, giving away my distress.
She grabs the hem at the top of her thighs, lifting it marginally. She keeps lifting with each button I undo. Our faces are twin statues, zeroed in on the new skin being revealed. Goose bumps prick my arms, and I notice her thighs look the same. The pace is torturously slow.
We make eye contact right before I get to the last button, and she pulls the shirt over her head. My last button comes undone at the same time I do.
Her skin is covered in ink, which I saw at the beach party. The intimacy is increased a hundredfold because we are alone…and she’s wearing a scrap of a violet bra. It’s made of a thin, lacy fabric that doesn’t seem to be big enough to properly cover her. My oxygen supply is much lower than it should be as I gape embarrassingly at her tantalizing female anatomy. I can’t force my eyes away, my self-control crippled. The image over her breasts is an antique pocket watch with vines running through the chain.
My eyes burn over her skin, trailing down to her flat tan stomach. The half-finished tattoo of the girl with cartoon hair is the most predominant one, the other side of her torso bare.
The air is suddenly thicker and harder to breathe.
She steps toward me, and I blow out a breath. My shirt is still on my shoulders, and she pushes it off of me, resting it on my elbows. Her cornflower-blue eyes are boring into mine as we both survive without air. Her eyes drop to my chest as she reaches up to press her delicate hands against my pecs. She rubs them down, torturing me, and I suck in a breath.
“What are you—” I breathe out, nearly losing my control.
“Just checking the size,” she says, her voice a rasp.
Her hands ignite my skin everywhere they touch, fingers exploring the ridges of my stomach. She pauses at the waistband of my jeans, slung low on my hips. She bites her lip, debating her next move.
I’m about to pass out from the anticipation.
She suddenly removes her dangerous hands, pulling her shirt back over her head, covering herself. I blow out a breath.
“I changed my mind. I don’t wanna trade,” she says, pulling my shirt up over my shoulders, doing the two middle buttons, then turning to unlock the door.
Words won’t form in my mind as I recover from the whiplash. Was she messing with me this whole time?
“Come on.” She grabs my hand, pulling me out into the hall.
A guy walking by gives me a fist bump. “Damn, that never happens to me.” He looks over Harley approvingly.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, using my other hand to adjust myself before we’re out of the hall. She laughs and sticks her hand into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Come over,” I blurt out, looking down at her pink lips.
She smiles, nodding.
“You’re still not getting this shirt,” she leans in to whisper as we walk up to the group.
“Hey, Kenna’s coming over to watch a movie. You in, Harley?” Dan asks as we approach.
Kenna is smiling. Levi looks like he might be getting sick.
“Sure,” Harley replies, squeezing my hand.
We all go to return our trays, and I take Harley’s with mine.
How am I ever going to resist her when she looks and smells and sounds the way she does? She’s walking ahead of us, arm looped with Kenna’s as they giggle and whisper to each other.
Silas slides up next to me.
