Seithe by Poppet Page B

absolute dark sunglasses. I don't know how he sees through them. They just highlight his perfect nose posed above kiss-me-now lips. His hair is white, spiked up, accentuating his male symmetry.
    His neck is surprisingly graceful as he cocks his head and smiles. His teeth are so white. I grin at his vamp teeth. Brilliant minds and all that.
    He's wearing a black knit shirt almost identical to the one I'm wearing, a black leather biker's jacket which broadens his shoulders further, subliminally accentuating the V of shoulder to hip proportions. I swallow heavily when I notice the silver buckle and belt snugly surrounding his hips above long legs in tar dark jeans.
    If I had any doubts they just deserted me like allies during war. This is the kind of man women will do anything for. We are shallow, but the gene pool preference instinct demands copulation with this type of male. And he's alpha with a capital A.
    "Come in."
    He walks in, and I follow his long striding with instant-lusty observation.
    He peruses slowly before presumably staring at me. Those sunglasses really are dark. "Nice," he drawls softly.
    I smile back. He picks up my overnight bag and wraps an arm around me, squeezing my softness against his contours, "Ready?"
    I nod. So excited, I'm having a hard time breathing normally.
    He lowers his head and crushes my lips against my teeth. They part as I entwine arms around his neck. He squeezes me tighter, I respond by increasing my grip; and I black out.
     
     

 
    Chapter 15: Flow
     
     
    I can smell him and ... and? My brow furrows as I cling to the lethargy and relaxation of not being fully awake. Fried onions!
    My eyes instantly pop open with a smile gracing my face. I prop myself onto an elbow and chuckle quietly. A chaise longue in the kitchen? He's Mr Original, that's for sure.
    His shirt is off and he seems intent on whatever he's doing at the hob. I died and went to heaven. I did! Except I owe him some pay-back. Mr. Super-alert twists to smile at me, "Welcome back."
    I lose the happy smile to glower at him.
    Noticing, he moves the pan off the flame and switches it off. He takes two steps toward me and stops. "Go on then."
    How do you know?
    He arches a cocky brown eyebrow at me. I deliberately dredge up the panic and fear I felt at what shall henceforth be referred to as *The bathroom incident*.
    Standing up too quickly, I sway. Ignoring it, I stalk across to stare up at him, then slap him as hard as I can. Every mustered ounce of rage I have ever had stored up unleashes onto a perfect cheek on a flawless face.
    It doesn't even change colour. No red hand mark, nothing. My hand, however, is hurting rather severely.
    He smiles down at me and yanks my jeans toward him with one hand in the waistband. His heat drives me instantly to the edge. Frenzied pulse flickers like dancing fire at the proximity.
    "Feel better?"
    Uncertain, confused that it made zero impact whatsoever, I nod.
    He hooks hands under my arms and hoists me onto the counter top, pulling me against him as he stands between my thighs. Eye to eye we stare at each other. I swallow nervously, excitement adrenalising me, screwing with my breathing.
    "Kiss it better."
    I stare at his cheek and smile in mute resistance. I love defiance. He smirks back with obvious bemusement. Sexy arse! One of his arms wraps around me in silent restraint, while his free hand starts tracing my contours with fingertips. His head buries into my neck and my senses are accosted on every level.
    With his weight pushing against my pelvis, fingertips arousing me, and that tongue and hot breathing on my neck, I subconsciously draw myself closer by reaching my arms up and squeezing them behind his neck. I turn my face to touch his skin with my lips when he forces us apart abruptly. His smile is so naughty as he points to his cheek.
    "I'm waiting."
    Honestly I am sorely tempted to slap it again. But I can't prevent the stupid smile spreading over my face at his shameless methods.