“Don’t do that,” Rogan whispers hoarsely.
My eyes fly to his, puzzled. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t stand there and think about me kissing you. It’s hard enough as it is.”
My mouth drops open a little. “I . . . I, uh . . . I wasn’t . . .” I feel my face burn. How the hell did he know?
He smiles. A full smile that makes his eyes shimmer and my knees weak. “You’re a terrible liar.”
My insides feel twitchy, like I’m fighting the urge to laugh. “Better than a great one.”
Rogan reaches up and brushes the back of one finger over my bottom lip. A bolt of electricity rockets straight through me, lighting up every nerve along the way. “That it is.”
We stand like this for seconds. Minutes. Hours, it seems. And then, without another word, he turns to resume his seat in my makeup chair, leaving me alone in a bubble of my own mixed emotions.
TWELVE
Rogan
I’ve managed to avoid Victoria almost entirely for nearly a month. I knew my luck had come to an end when I saw her come through the door at the diner today. I was right. Damn it. She made a beeline for me, so now here I am, making nice with my ex, playing stupid as she throws every hint in the book about us getting back together.
I think I’ve done an admirable job of paying her just enough attention not to be rude. That lasts right up until Katie and Mona walk in. Even though this is pretty much the only place to eat in town (other than the deli at the grocery store and the pseudo-meat gas-station fare across the street), this is the first time I’ve run into Katie here. It didn’t take me long to realize that she eats at different times, probably based on what kind of need there is to do retouches or specialty makeup.
My gut twists when I look at her. God, she’s . . . Hell, I don’t even know. Yeah, she’s beautiful in a clean and wholesome way, and yeah she’s sexy as hell on Sunday, but there’s just something about her that gets to me. Maybe it’s the shy way she keeps her chin down when she walks in, like if she doesn’t look up no one will notice her. Or maybe it’s the small smile that plays with her lips, like she wears this polite mask all the time. Or maybe it’s the glimpses I’ve been getting at what she’s really like, when the walls are down and she’s not quite so guarded. Damned if I know, but this girl is under my skin. In a big way.
I sneak glances at her as she and her friend are seated. I watch her laugh, albeit quietly, and I watch her lips move as she orders. She hasn’t seen me. She makes a point not to look around. God forbid someone notice her.
When her food comes, I find it even harder to pretend that I’m listening to Victoria. I’m not surprised when Katie orders real food in the form of a burger, fries and a milk shake. For some reason it fits. And watching her eat . . . Jesus H. Christ! She takes voracious bites, bites that make me want to strip her down, stretch her out up on the table, and enjoy eating her the way she’s ravenously enjoying her meal. Right in front of everyone. I wouldn’t care who was watching. She captivates me that much, dominates my thoughts to that degree.
And, evidently, it shows.
“What’s so interesting?” Victoria asks, a little ice in her tone.
“Huh?”
“You’re staring. What’s so interesting that you can’t even listen to what I’m saying?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about, uh, something I saw on television last night.”
Lie. Big, fat lie, but I’m not getting into this with Victoria of all people. Katie doesn’t deserve that kind of negative attention.
Her expression says she believes me Not. One. Bit.
But considering the level of her vanity, my distraction does absolutely nothing to dissuade her from continuing her one-sided conversation.
I try to pull myself back to the table a few times, but mostly I continue to watch the little witch across the room. I figure I’m about thirty percent successful until the waitress delivers a piece of pie to Katie’s table. That’s when I lose the battle.
Her eyes get wide and a real smile spreads across her face as the waitress sets it in front of her. She grabs her fork without even taking her eyes off the cream-covered triangle.
And then she digs in.
I can’t take my eyes off her when she brings a heap of pale green custard to her mouth. She slides it onto her tongue and then closes her lips around the fork, pulling it slowly from between them. She doesn’t chew for a few seconds; she just lets the pie sit in her mouth. Her eyes close in ecstasy and I can all but hear her moan of delight.
Blood rushes to my cock as that imaginary moan accompanies my previous thought of her lying naked beneath me.