Page 3 (1/2)

"You want--" Her voice breaks She’s breathless now, and I know this is it I’ve got her

I feel a little twinge deep inside--one that I ht identify as disappointnore it This is exactly what I wanted, after all "You want so sweet and hot?"

"That is how I like s, h to say shit like that But I can imply with the best of them

Ophelia’s eyes are a little hazy now, a little unfocused, but she nods jerkily Then, before I can say anything else, she heads over to the espresso machines and fumbles around for a minute or two She doesn’t look toward lass of iced coffee

Confused, I look back and forth between her and the drink "That doesn’t look very warm," I finally tell her

"Yeah, well, I made an executive decision It looked like you needed so to cool yourself doith" And then it’s her turn to lean over the counter I have a quick second to curse the turtleneck--I’d really love to see what this girl’s tits look like--right before she dumps the coffee all over the front of ht away And when he does, it’s not at all the way I expect

Maybe it’s the insulated snowboarding pants or maybe it’s his too-cool attitude, but Z doesn’t screech or yell or even curse He just looks at ood face of his frozen in surprise Whether it’s because I duured out that I played hiets the e and leaves me the hell alone

Still, some instinct deep inside me whispers that not much surprises him The fact that I did makes me happier than it should

And then he sht Because it isn’t that co-bad-wolf’s-lap-and-let-him-take-a-little-bite-out-of-you so, the one that weakenedwith those of every other ferin ripe with ain to identify

But whatever that unknown thing is, I’ve been around the block enough to know that I’ probably won’t end well between us At least not for me

Still, as I supposed to do? Stand here with ether like so dairl in a hundred- to be just another notch on his snowboard?

I don’t think so

I did what had to be done, nipped his totally iot coer of falling for him--rich, pretty boys like Z make me break out in hives, especially when they’re adrenaline junkies But still, I’ any chances

Not after what happened in New Orleans

Just the thought of Louisiana, of Re I’ve been doing so well, too

Mindinginto classes at the coe so I won’t be stuck in this dead-end job--this dead-end life--forever

At least until Mr My-Balls-Are-Even-Bigger-than-My-Bank-Account here co and decides to h lare at Z Suddenly I’ to dump another cup of coffee on him One that isn’t iced this ti and staring If my aunt or uncle passes by and sees all the co as I’ve already gotten banished froift shop and one of the restaurants in the twelve days I’ve been here, I’ned to doing so from under the counter and thrust it toward hiot it, thanks" His grin widens, and it only ticks me off to see that my ire amuses him At least until he reaches for the back neckline of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one s at his black pants with it,of the past And so are my brain cells

I can’t help it I try to stay pissed, but it’s hard to actually forhts--when I’uy’s an alien He has to be, because hus just don’t look like this At least not outside of azine shoots and Hollywood movies And maybe not even there

Despite the winter weather, his skin is a soft, golden bronze that’s a testament to just how much time he spends outside with his shirt off--despite the snow His arod, his abs are a work of art Forget six-pack This guy has an eight-working-on-ten-pack, and for a second--just a second--ine what it would be like to lick a path straight from his collarbone to his navel

He shifts a little under ot--on his arm, his chest, over his ribs, down the side of his abs Way too uy, I re crazy risks and doing really wild stunts Is it any wonder his body is so torn up?

Not that the scars make him look bad Just the opposite Somehow they only reinforce the beauty of all that hard-packed olden skin The same way his ink does I try to look away, but I can’t I’ht half of his upper body It’s a wall of tribal-looking flaray that start somewhere below his waist and lick all the way up to his shoulder, over his pec, and down his right arned, and sexy as hell On his left side is another tattoo, this one a bunch of words in a fancy black script that I’ to knoords are so iuy like Z would brand hi tickles the side offear that it’sat the work of art that is Z Michaels I dash my hand over my chin just in case Turns out I haven’t lost colands--it’s just a lock of hair that escaped from my bun