Page 26 of Lilah

And feel those tattoos of his.

I take a step back to peer up at the books above my head but instead of looking at those books, my eyes can't seem to stray away from his back.

I've never wanted to rub someone's back so bad before. I have to be going crazy. His tense back muscles are just begging me to touch.

I'll be darned if his butt ain't too bad to look at too. What am I? A thirsty teenager?

In the famous words of Edna Mode: "Get yourself together!"

I move down the row, trying to get my mind away from his figure. I focus on the books in front of me and nearly chuckle when I see one.

The Art of Paper Mache

It would be a trip to see him read this. I pick the book up, feeling quite proud of my find and I turn to show it to him.

I come face to face with a chest. His chest. His chest that's close pretty close to me. Why is my throat closing?

Kumbaya my Lord, Kumbaya.

I hold the book in front of me, not really knowing what to do with myself. I'm not really a nervous person, only around him.

His gorgeous tattooed arm sneaks around me and he places it on the bookshelf behind me. I gulp, watching his strong arm that looks like it could squeeze me like an anaconda.

He takes the book from my hands, leaving me wondering what I'm supposed to do now. He places the book somewhere behind me and I gather my courage and look up at him.

I smooth out the skirt of my dress and watch as his eyes follow my movement. As soon as my hands let go of my dress, his eyes fall on mine.

"Fuck," he curses quietly, dropping his head.

For some reason, as he looks away from me, I'm left feeling a certain type of way. Like Iwanthim to keep those eyes of his on me.

"Are you okay?" I question in my softest of voices, worried that if I speak too loudly, he'll be unhappy.

"I think you're lying," he lifts his head back up, his dark eyes connecting back with mine causing a warm feeling to explode in my stomach.

Lying?

"Lying about what?" I let my head fall but he doesn't let it stay down. The hand that was resting on the shelf behind me grips the ends of my hair in the lightest touch possible.

My throat goes dry at the way his touch gives me tingles. Goodness, what is going on with my hormones?

His other hand comes up to my arm. He lifts it, looking down at the bruise.

Is he saying I'm not capable of doing sex? Orhavingit, whatever it's supposed to be.

"You couldn't keep a guy around long enough to fuck you with that pretty little mouth of yours always running."

He thinks my mouth is pretty?

Hold up, excuse me?

My mouth gapes as I peer up at him. I'm speechless. For once I don't have a comeback against that because if I'm being honest with myself, he's probably right.

Plus, on top of that, he's sovulgar. His manners are basically nonexistent.

"You're quite rude you know," a dark glare settles onto his handsome face. He pulls away from me, a small sneer on his face.

So he can say rude things to me but when I only tell him he's mean, he gets grumpy? No one leaves my presence unhappy.