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Despite all that, I like the game. The thrill. Losing when I’m not losing. And winning when I’m not exactly winning.
He stops inches away from me, and I tilt my head back, not having enough air to breathe.
“You think I don’t see it…” he murmurs, his eyes sliding to my lips. “Not only that he fucked you, but he made you come more than once.”
“You’re wrong. But, anyway… How do you know?”
My words and attitude only tease him more.
I keep my lips pressed together, crushing a naughty smile.
He bites the inside of his cheek.
“Why can’t you tell the truth?” he says.
“I just told you the truth.”
“Mm-hmm…”
“How? How do you know?” I insist.
I’m looking for trouble, and he knows it.
“I’ve already told you,” he says, dragging his stare down. “It’s in the way your body reacts.”
“To you?”
I bite my lip.
He looks up and shakes his head.
“To the idea of talking to me about him while keeping him a secret. He probably asked you to keep it a secret on purpose. To make you tingle while he’s gone.”
“There is no he. This stuff has never happened.”
“I doubt.”
He observes my chest as it rises and falls with paced, strained breaths.
“You want him… And that’s fine,” he murmurs, slightly disconnected. “And you want Francisco. And that’s fine too.”
“What about you?” I say, walking a tightrope while gauging his honesty.
His unfocused eyes come to me.
“Me? You want to know about me?”
He seems darkly amused.
“You’ll fall hard for me,” he deadpans, his grin dying out.
Talking about ruining a moment.
My lips part with surprise and disbelief.
“Is this a test?” I ask.
His eyes fill with a lot of things––a ray of sunlight, dark clouds, rain and sleet––but no good answers.
“It’s not a test. It’s a prediction.”
