Page 35 of Ghosted

“Say his name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m supposed to enjoy hearing it.”

“You asked about him.”

“I asked who he was.” I step closer, voice dropping with me. “Doesn’t mean to keep hearing his name coming out of that pretty mouth.”

That shuts her up, for once.

Her lips stay parted like she had something ready and lost it halfway there.

Good.

My hand lifts before I can talk myself out of it, and Alice goes still as my thumb brushes across her bottom lip. Slow. Light. Just enough to feel the warmth of her mouth and make every bad idea in my head sit up and pay attention.

“Jagger,” she whispers, and it comes out wrong.

Too soft.

Too fucking warning.

Almost a fucking whimper.

My whole body goes still.

Fuck me.

That’s the sound.

My name, caught in her throat like she knows she should push me back and hates that she hasn’t.

My thumb drags once more over her lip before I pull away.

“That,” I murmur. “That’s what I’d rather hear.”

Her eyes stay locked on mine, sharper now, but her fingers tighten around the coffee cup.

“My name,” I say. “Not his.”

For a second, I think about pressing closer. About seeing if she’d bite. About finding out if that sharp little mouth is as brave with my hand on it.

Instead, I pull back.

Barely smart enough to know touching her again right now is a bad fucking idea.

I drag a cigarette from my pocket and put it between my lips, lighting it mostly so my hands have something to do besides reach for her again.

Alice watches the flame catch, then looks back at me.

“You’re insane,” she says.

I take a slow drag and let the smoke roll out between us.

“Probably.” My lips pull into a smirk.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” she says.