"You did not-" I gasp when I feel the paint slowly making its way from the top to the bottom of my shirt.
Yet, I struggle to hide the hint of a smile on my face as I feel his arm, still around my waist, shaking as he laughs. "I believe I just did."...
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This is torture.
Every little movements Jayden makes, I feel, and every breath he takes, my heart beats a millisecond faster.
Which may not seem like a lot but it sure as hell is because the millisecond turned into a a thousand time faster and he decided he just needs to rest his arm on the back of the arm of the bench behind me.
The other way was perfectly fine too, but no, just a inch from my bare shoulder is better.
I blame myself for deciding to put an black off-shoulders oversize jumper on top of a black tank top.
My breathing seems to spot when his fingers graze my shoulder, so light that I'm almost not able to sense it, but since ever I'm hyper aware of every move of his bones that's close to me, it's more than adequate to affect me.
More than it should and mostly more than I want it to.
"So, what do you want, Kia?"
Shit what are we talking about.
"I'm sorry, what?" I see that fucker next to me smirk at that.
Mateo sighs, "I was asking if anyone wants a desert or we can ago."
I do actually, a cake wouldn't hurt to help with my mood, but if that means waiting for it and stay in this position then no.
Now that I think about it I should have just moved seats from the chair.
But making Jayden think he affects me ? Never.
He does thought.
Never mind.
"No, I'm good, thanks."
"I want one."
For fuck's sake.
Of course Jayden wants a desert.
"Okay then I'll call the waiter."
The waiter is the only thing good about this lunch.
And the food, definitely the food.
Now there's more than one reason for me to come back here.
Not that I could ever get a guy's number with four guys around me including one with his arm around my shoulders.
Also I-
Fucking hell.
This time his fingers do a lot more than just grazing.
I feel him settles his fingers on my shoulder, on the top of my back, but not visible to neither Max or Terik who are sat in front of us.
His pointer and middle finger are on my skin, and his thumb makes circle motions on a spot between the back of my neck and my shoulder.
His two other fingers rest on the hem of the jumper, yet I can feel their warmth as if there was no piece of clothing in between my skin, flaming at his close proximity.
