Would you like me to drive so you can manage your social life?” I asked. It came out much snippier than I'd intended but he was oblivious to my tone, still looking at his newest message.
“No, no, I'm fine.”
“We'd better not get in an accident because you're busy sexting and driving,” I said. He burst out laughing.
“I've got my hearing senses on the car in front of us is two and three-quarter car lengths ahead, and the one behind us is a quarter of a mile back. Next to him a compact car is passing. Engine sounds foreign, probably a Honda. He'll be passing us in about twelve seconds. He's got extra-thick treads, racing-quality tires. Sexting...”
He laughed again. Twelve seconds later a Civic zoomed past, low to the ground, with wide tires. Show-off.
I always wondered what your type was, but I never imagined it would be a hard-core rocker!”
Here we go. I had been hoping he'd be too sleepy for this conversation.
“He's not my type. If I had a type it would be...nice. Not some hotheaded, egocentric male slut.”
“Did you just call him a male slut?” Jay laughed. “Dang, that's, like, the worst language I've ever heard you use.”
I glowered at him, feeling ashamed, and he laughed even harder.
“Oh, hey, I've got a joke for you. What do you call someone who hangs out with musicians?”
He raised his eyebrows and I shrugged. “I don't know. What?”
“A drummer!” I shook my head while he cracked up at his joke for another minute before hounding me again about Kaidan. “All right, so you talked about my CDs, you had some cultural confusion with some of his lingo, then you talked about hot dogs? That can't be everything. You looked seriously intense.”
“That's because he was intense, even though we weren't really talking about anything. He made me nervous.”
“You thought he was hot, didn't you?”
I stared out my window at the passing trees and houses. We were almost to school.
“I knew it!” He smacked the steering wheel, loving every second of my discomfort. “This is so weird. Anna Whitt has a crush.”
“Fine, yes. He was hot. But it doesn't matter, because there's something about him I don't like. I can't explain it. He's...scary.”
“He's not the boy next door, if that's what you mean. Just don't get the good-girl syndrome.”
“What's that?”
“You know. When a good girl falls for a bad boy and hopes the boy will fall in love and magically want to change his ways. But the only one who ends up changing is the girl.
I'd never notice the feelings between Jay and Scott were about as warm and fuzzy as a bald cat.
Wendy HigginsWhat do you want?” he growled.
“I just want to talk.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “You don't have to try to scare me.”
He kept a straight face, and his tone was seductively low. "There's hardly any room for fear when you're so bloody turned-on.”
A flash of shock hit me at his audacity. His eyes lowered to my body, but he never moved away.
“Ah, there's anger now,” he said coolly, “and a bit of embarrassment.”
He was reading me — reading my colors! And I couldn't see his at all. I felt stripped bare before him, vulnerable. I concentrated on why I'd gone there to begin with.
“I know what we are now.” I wished my voice weren't shaky.
“Congratulations.” He stood over me for a second more, savoring his power, no doubt, and then walked away, tossing the knife in the general direction of the dartboard and hitting the bull's-eye. Never missing a beat, he swaggered to a white couch with oversize pillows. He fell back onto it, propping his big, black boots on the white cushions and lounging back with arms spread wide across the back of the sofa. He stared as if daring me to talk.
I had no idea what to say or do. I didn't know anymore why I'd come. Had I just wanted to barge in and say, Ha, I know what we are! and then demand information?
Does your father know you're on this trip with me?” I asked.
“No. We spoke for a minute before he left this morning. He knows I'm going on a trip with a particularly stubborn virgin, but that's all I told him. He commended me for my valiant efforts, although he thinks it's too much time to spend with one girl. He expects her to be good and deflowered by the end of our time together.”
“Well, he'll be good and disappointed then,” I mumbled, and he smirked.
I followed Kaidan up the stairs, attempting to convince myself that having tea with a demon and his knife-slinging son was nothing to be scared about.
Wendy HigginsKaidan leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his bare chest. His father looked up at him and chuckled low.
“Look at my boy standing there,” he said to me. “Such a caveman. Son, find a shirt and join us.
Do you trust this boy?”
“I trust that he's probably listening to this conversation right now.”
“Surely he's capable of being a gentleman and wouldn't do such a thing,” she said with false sweetness. I knew she was saying it to him, not me. I wondered how Kaidan would fare against a mother's guilt trip.
Well, I do have some means to protect us,” Kaidan said. “Besides our senses, I mean.”
She stopped and stared him down. “What do you mean? Not a gun, I hope.”
“No, but I'm pretty good with a knife.”
I got a chill at the memory.
Patti crossed her arms. “Really?” she challenged. “Care to demonstrate?
You promised to be on your best behavior,” I reminded him, breathless.
“You kissed me,” he growled. His voice had gone very deep.
“Well, but you started it by kissing my neck.”
“True. I hadn't planned that.” His sultry voice, paired with those blazing eyes, told me I needed to get away from him. I hurried to the end of the bed, where I jumped off and began to pace back and forth, yanking out my loose hairband and pulling my hair back into a tight ponytail. I tried hard not to think about the taste of his lips. I'd had my first kiss, and I'd never be the same.
“Why did you stop?” he asked.
“Because you were moving on to other things.”
He scratched his chin and cheek. “Hmm, moved too quickly. Rookie mistake.”
I crossed my arms again, watching him speculate internally like a coach outlining a play that had gone wrong. Incredible. Then he sized me up in his sights again.
“But I can see you still want me.”
I gave him my meanest stare, but it was hard to look at him. Gosh, he was hot! And a total player. The kiss meant nothing to him.
“Oh,” he said with mock sadness, “there it goes. Mad instead? Well, sort of. You can't seem to muster a really good anger—”
“Stop it!”
“Sorry, was I saying that out loud?”
“I can read people, too, you know. Well, not you, but at least I have the decency to try not to notice, to give them some sort of emotional privacy!”
“Yes, how very decent of you.” He hadn't moved from his languid position on my bed.
I leaned forward, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him.
“Pillow fight?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Get off my bed. Please. I'm ready to go to sleep.
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