Page 36 of Snatched
“Okay,” I whisper, “now you’re flirting.”
He smirks a little. “Just stating facts.”
“Oh.”
“And maybe I’m flirting a little,” he adds, voice dropping half an octave. “Not supposed to. Too young for you anyway, like you said.”
My breath catches. I feel it. I’m certain he feels it too. He doesn’t move back, doesn’t apologize, doesn’t fill the silence with noise. He justholds the moment, and it pins me in place like a hand between my shoulder blades.
He leans in just enough to make my pulse sprint.
“So what do you like?” he asks quietly.
“What… do I like?”
His brow quirks, playful shadow flashing for a second. “In bed.”
I swallow hard and my throat goes dry. “I like a lot of things.”
“Oh?” His voice warms at the edges, curious now. “Do tell.”
And I do—without meaning to. The words come out like a dam cracking:
“I like being wanted,” I admit, quieter than intended. “Not rushed through like a task, butchosen. But I want to feel safe, too, you know? I want to know I can trust someone. Even if it’s just…oh boy.”
“Say it.”
“Like even if it were just a casual situation. I’d want to know we’re not with other people. Not that I’ve ever done…casual. Not yet anyway.”
“Not…yet.”
I take a breath in. The hallway is warm. Probably him.
“And I miss heat,” I add, honest now, maybe reckless. “The kind that sneaks up your back when someone looks at you too long.”
His eyes flick down, then back up, and the warmth rolls through me again.
“I like hands that know what they’re doing,” I continue, the corners of my mouth betraying me into a shaky smile. “Calloused in all the right ways. Forearms are my kryptonite.”
He glances at his own, like he’s trying to hide a grin. Too late. I already saw it.
“And I like mystery,” I add. “Not chaos. But the feeling that someone could surprise me, and I wouldn’t run from it.”
He smiles at that, slower now, like I just handed him a map he didn’t expect.
“Anything else?”
“And…I wouldn’t mind something feral, and raw, you know? Like…just taking me. And then there’s the, uh…hate sex fantasy.”
His eyes widen. “Hate sex…?”
“Well I don’t want to have sex with someone Iactuallyhate. But like…”
Before I can elaborate, my phone dings.
We both jolt like teenagers caught stealing cookies.
I glance down, and feel my stomach sink.
