She gasps. "Yes." I know it slipped out. She backpedals as fast as she can. "No!" A horrified expression on her face.
I pull my eyebrows up and plaster on a sexy grin. It pees her off in an instant. I'm sure she's thinking of strangling me again.
"It will be much more erotic," I say. It comes out more husky than intended.
"Huh?" She's clearly confused.
"Choking me in reality will feel much more erotic than dreaming about it." Her eyes grow wide.
"It's a gift," I answer her unasked question. Darn, I love teasing her.
"If you date my lame-ass brother, you can become my sister," my brother chimes with puppy-love eyes. "Please, the guy sucks in the female department, but he's a pretty nice dude if you get to know him."
"I don't suck." I just try to keep my sex life away from home. It's in my rules. And I'm not proud of the way the press portrays me. Or that they're mostly right.
"And I'm sure this lame-ass brother can still kick your but!" I say, suppressing a smile, "I don't have a problem picking up girls."
"That's for sure," she hisses, her face turning into that familiar judgmental one. Maybe I should just shut up now before I ruin everything.
"Yeah, sure, I'll believe it when you ask Mel out." Luke pulls a shitty face while looking sincerely at me.
"I'll see about that." I wink at my brother.
"Chicken!" Luke pulls his eyes at Mel with a sexy little I-told-you-so smile and then he challenges me with a cocky stance, chin in the air.
"And you're so dead," I threaten. Luke runs away, looking back, pointing his fingers at me and then at his eyes, showing that he's watching me. I smile and pull a finger across my neck, making a cut-throat sound.
"Cocky little bastard."
"Seems to me it runs in the family," she dabs.
"Yep, just like our great taste in women. So will you?" I blink and scratch the back of my head. Why do I feel awkward all of a sudden?
"Go out with you?" her voice dips. I hold my breath. Then she pushes out her chest, not knowing that she leaving me with the perfect view of her cleavage. "I'm not that naïve little girl anymore and I'm certainly not your kinda girl." She wiggles her eyes and gives me a million-dollar smile. Oh, has she got it wrong. She's exactly my type. In fact, she's my only type.
"And what kind might that be?"
"Firstly, it's old news that Mr. MotoGP doesn't do blondes. I'm for sure not dying my hair brown to fit into your groupie spectrum." Okay … maybe I only sleep with brunettes. But there's a reason for that. A very good one, in fact.
"Maybe you should not judge what you don't know. Things aren't always as they seem." I interrupt her before she gets to her second reason.
My mouth is super dry all of a sudden. This is going to be a little bit more difficult than I thought. How can I convince her that I've changed? Date = 5 September
Place = San Francisco (Uncle John's house)
POV – Melaena
Not as they seem? Is he trying to claim innocence? How can his affairs, which are plastered over the news every week, by the way, be anything different? I look at his confronting emerald eyes and start throwing ideas through my mind. Did he just tell me not to judge his affairs? Does it look like I'm the judgy type?
"I'm not accusing you, but your shenanigans with the female species make for a very convincing closing argument. You could object that I don't have all the facts, and that's true, but everybody can witness the evidence of so-called flings in the tabloids and social media. Your face is plastered at least weekly, all over the internet, each time with a different BRUNETTE smiling at your side."
I suddenly wonder what it is with him and dark-haired girls. It's definitely his type. And I'm definitely not.
He rubs his jaw as he studies me from under spiky black eyelashes. He has a hint of stubble like maybe he didn't have time to shave.
It shouldn't be so damn sexy.
He has gone from boy to man in the past ten years and it doesn't help that he has this way of drawing me in. Even by just standing there, eyes flaring with a restrained temper - pissed off - he is all kinds of hot.
"Not to mention that I've personally experienced your love-em-and-leave-em deviltry first-handily - TWICE. So, your honor, the accused is found guilty of being a heartbreaking player. Court adjourned."
I give him my best battle-winning smile ever, but it's short-lived as the warmth drains from those green eyes until he's staring back at me in sorrowful regret. It's like a door slamming closed. What the frick?
For a moment, we're just standing there drowning in each other's gazes. Or I'm drowning. Not sure about him.
He really has the best eyes - Dulux Wicked Witch - to be precise. I would know cause I painted my dresser that exact color in my senior year. The one that holds my underwear. Because I like green.
"Damion, we're going to shoot some balls!" Logan calls, walking past us, breaking the spell. Then I feel an arm encircling my waist from behind and a kiss lands on my cheek. I look up into Ren's warm brown eyes. Eyes that do not affect me. At all.
"Hi babe, sorry I'm late." Damion's expression changes to hard and cold. I hate that Ren calls me babe! It reminds me of the little talking pig flick and I'm not a pig, even though the little swine was pretty darn cute.
The brunette I saw clinging to Damion earlier grabs a hold of his arm with a potent smile.
"Ah, at last, we're all together," she says stiffly as if afraid of cracking her postbox red lipstick. Damion seems pissed. She's pretty with her dark bob hair, flawless face, and tall curvy body. And she sure loves red - her slutty dress is the same hue as her lips and nails.
"Oh, where's my manners?" the bitch sites, now with a fake smile and a warning in her dark eyes. I don't like her. She reminds me of this huge spider Jackson used to keep in his room - they have the same glare. I put on a mocking dummy smile too.
"I'm Chloe, Ren's friend from school, and … " she wavers, pouting those red lips up at Damion, "hopefully … soon I'll be this man's wife." Holy fuck! I glare at the biker but his face is as unemotional as a table. Is he really going to marry this bitch? Wow. I bite my lip cause all of a sudden a pain is slashing through my chest, watering my eyes.
Ren holds out his hand to Damion. "Hi dude, I'm Ren, Mel's b o y f r i e n d."
I may be wrong, but I'm sure he intentionally pushed the last word out. Damion hesitates just for a second, staring into Ren's eyes, his own pulled into a frown, blazing as if it's on fire. He pulls free from the red-nailed claws, turns around, and walks away without another word, ignoring Ren's hand and the girl with the tight face. I swear her face got even more taut.
"Friendly chap that one, like always." Ren frowns. Yeah, his friendliness will for sure drive me to alcohol, man-whores, and the murdering of small-brained rodents!
"I didn't realize that you know him."