Page 18 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

XANDER

She pushed me away and while I was expecting it—I’m still pissed.

She was intoxicating me all night with her silky voice and lush lips.

I could stare at her forever, and I could kiss her for the rest of my life.

But she shut me out. Against my usual desires when it comes to women, I actually wanted to stay there with her.

I obviously would have been more than okay with fucking her if she let me, but she could have at least let our kiss drag itself out a little longer.

I feel like I was teased and now I’m even more bothered by her than before.

These simple and seemingly innocent interactions are far from enough for me.

I don’t just want more, I need it. I need all of her.

She’s driving me fucking crazy and that’s saying something because I know I’m naturally a little crazed to begin with.

She tastes like honey and she feels like bliss.

I wanted to strip her down right there in the hallway, uncaring who could pass by.

She makes me lose all rational thought whenever she’s around me.

The cold and calculated killer becomes dumbstruck for once, and there isn’t a damn thing I want to do about it.

She knows I’ve been watching her though, and that’s less than ideal.

I thought I was being careful enough, but obviously not.

I’m being too bold, too forward in my pursuit of her.

Despite all of this, it didn’t seem to phase her.

If it did, there’s no way she would have still gone to dinner with me.

I’m also glad that she willingly divulged personal info, not that there was much I didn't already know. The only thing I’m still mostly in the dark about is her family.

I know she only has her mother, but she doesn’t like to talk about her and I want to know why.

Is her mother the one who shaped her into the paranoid and slightly flighty woman she is today?

She can act so bold sometimes, but I know it’s just a mask to keep people from prying below the surface, a mask I’m well acquainted with.

I want to peel it off her and see what’s underneath.

I think back at how it felt to have her pressed against the wall, her body soft and pliable under mine.

The feel of her softness in my hands, how perfect and fucking right she is.

How badly I wanted to take off her top and take her nipples into my mouth as I grasped her breasts.

How her tongue worked mine. In a few short weeks, she has occupied nearly all of my waking thoughts and it’s only going to get worse.

I can’t quell the attraction, and I surely can’t tame the obsession.

The only thing I can do is make her mine. I won’t rest until then—I can’t.