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I have to take deep, even breaths to keep from crying like a little bitch.
Now she’s laughing at me. “You’re not going to cry are you?”
“No.” I feel my eyes narrow on her face. “What kind of pussy do you think I am?”
Her mouth tilts upward, one corner higher than the other. “A pretty big one.”
Before I can tell her to fuck off, she leans into me. Lips slightly pursed. Fingers still gripped around my jaw. Gaze lowered and settled somewhere near my mouth so she can blow on my chin.
Whatever I was about to say gets lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth. My heart goes apeshit again and I’m worried that the wrench to the head caused some sort of brain injury because I suddenly have to crank my hands into fists to keep myself from reaching up and wrapping them around the backs of her thighs to pull her onto my lap.
I want to kiss her.
And if she doesn’t get away from me—fast—that’s exactly what I’m going to do.