Page 45 of Vile Bastards
I can feel that stare in my bones.
That, and all the horrible things Widow’s been whispering in my ear all week. For the hour we work together in the library every day, it’s pure torture. He somehow got it into his head to find the most lascivious romance novel quotes known to man, and then started regaling me with them against my will.
I now have a huge list of naughty things I want to do with him.
Not just that: he skins his palms over my bare arms but refuses to touch me. He cups my ass and squeezes it before waltzing away. He licks the back of my neck but retreats before I can grab him.
Basically, Adrian is a fucking tease.
“She’s one of your inner circle chicks, Shirley something.”
“Ah, the klepto.” I reach out for the cigarette and Widow releases it, his gaze focused on my lips as they wrap around the tip. I make sure to let my lids droop, toss my head back a little so he can see the smooth curve of my throat, and then I take a long, deep inhale before blowing out a perfect smoke ring.
“Aren’t all of your girls kleptos?” he asks, seemingly content to watch me smoke.
“Most of them.” I move around to stand in front of him as he looks down at me. I reach up to touch his chest, and he goes still for a second. I end up dropping my hands by my sides as we study each other. “Don’t want me to touch you right now?”
“Did I say that?” Widow reaches down and captures my hand, pressing it against his chest and exhaling heavily. His eyes are full of emotion, pale gold in the center and darkening to an almost chocolate brown at the edges. If my life were a fairy tale—let’s be honest, all the original fairy tales had fucked-up endings so there’s a good chance I really could be living one—Widow would be my prince.
The only reason he’s involved in all of this shit is because of me.
Alexei, he’s got ulterior motives; Ash has ulterior motives. Bohnes is here for me, but he’s also taken Alexei on as a client. Widow is just … a poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks.
He rubs his thumb over my knuckles, staring into my eyes with a contemplative frown etched into that smart-ass mouth of his. I mean, really, what a ballsy son of a bitch. Comes to my school, parks in my space, mouths off at me, attacks me with a knife in the girl’s bathroom.
“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” I tell him, and he cocks a brow, wrinkling up that stupid gorgeous mouth of his into one of his usual sneering expressions. He could live in ‘em. “And if you keep frowning like that, you’re gonna make one ugly ass old man.” I reach up to trace the spots where he’d wrinkle if any one of us assholes was lucky enough to make it to old age.
Old age. LOL. The chances of me making it to silver hair are about a million to one.
“I’m a piece of shit? After all the things I’ve done for you.” He grits his teeth and uses his hold on that one single hand to drag me even closer to him. And then he gets in my face because he seems to know exactly how to piss me off.
I’ve never been challenged by a man the way Widow challenges me.
It turns me on and turns me homicidal in equal measures.
“Ah, or you’re thinking back on all our previous interactions and finding yourself baffled?” He releases my hand suddenly, and I go to smack him in the chest. He catches my wrist yet again, and I force myself to release a long, slow exhale.
“Yes. Also, I hate being told no.” I go to draw my hand away from him, but he keeps it in his grip this time. My eyes drop to his hot fingers and their punishing grip before returning to his face. “Do you think we actually like each other? All signs point to hate. Maybe we just have insane sexual chemistry?”
“Which is why you asked for a date as a reward?” he queries absently, as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. This bitch … “I mean, you raced me for it, so you must really want it.”
“I want you to let me touch you.” I pause there and realize how callous I’m being. “Unless it’s because of past trauma. If that’s it—”
“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” Widow drags my fingers up to his mouth and sucks on them, letting his eyes go half-lidded as he watches me. He curves his tongue around each digit, savoring the taste of my skin. “Does this look like someone who doesn’t want to be touched right now?”
