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13

Kiss, Don’t Tell

“WE USED TO BE PARTNERS.”

Flabbergasted, I directed wide eyes up at the Austrian. I all but ignored the pang of envy in my chest. “You had other partners?”

“Briefly. Many didn’t last very long. Kris lasted longer than most, and we still talk like normal to this day. Can’t say the same about the others. Guess I can be a bit difficult to deal with.”

No fucking kidding.

“So...?”

“No, we never slept together, if that’s what you’re asking,” Phillip offered, a devious smirk distorting his mouth. “I’ve made it a personal rule not to touch my partners.”

When? Does kissing not count?

I internally berated myself for thinking about the kiss again, because he’d even said it was to activate my blood.

His blood was some sort of catalyst. Sure, he could’ve done it other ways, but Phillip was a jerk of the worst kind and wanted to destroy a young girl’s life. But then, why had he offered to do other things if he didn’t touch his partners?

As a joke?

Something about the way he touched me made it feel like he’d make good on the offer if I showed the least bit of interest. Or was I just making excuses? Did I want him to mean it?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I opened my mouth, but words weren’t forthcoming. Pain hit my chest, and I struggled to figure out why it bothered me so much he might never touch me again.

It was an important rule to keep, and it made perfect sense. Partners needed to trust one another, and they certainly needed to keep emotion out of it. Of course, getting close was natural and not a bad thing. But a relationship that went beyond friendship could severely complicate things. Unless it was a well-established relationship where both partners understood the risks.

“That’s a good rule to have,” I finally said, looking away. “You two seem close. That’s the only reason I asked.”

“Hmm,” Phillip hummed, still invading my personal space. “You seem disappointed.”

“I’m not,” I snapped before walking ahead. “We’re wasting time. Nigel’s probably at the top. We better get our asses up there before he thinks we left him to do all the work.”

My wrist was captured before I could stomp off too far ahead, and I was jerked back into a hard body. The speed could only be Phillip’s because it matched mine. I could’ve very easily fought it—something told me I was faster and stronger than him—but I didn’t. I let him capture me. I wanted to bask in his aroma.

When his scent overwhelmed mine and I looked up, beyond confused, a halo of light surrounded his head and blinded me.

Why does he smell like mint?

Sadly, mint was my favorite scent, having chosen it for both shampoo and body wash, and really anything I could. Today, Phillip smelled almost entirely of peppermint. The thought that he might be presumptuously using my body wash did things to me. Things that made my cheeks hot and heart hammer.

I imagined him naked in the shower with my favorite scent lathering his skin. And because of that, his scent was just as distracting as his criminally sexy smiles and devastatingly hot body were.

Next to Nigel’s gentle smiles, powerful body, and contagious laughter, I had to wonder if I’d fallen into a new level of Hell.

It all sure felt like torture.

“Are you reconsidering the break-up?”

I shuddered at the deep register of his voice. “What do you mean?”