My heart pulled out my chest, not able to form words at this wildness.
And fuck did that suit him.
I could have done a million things, but my lips bent into a smile at this side of his.
"What?"
He barked, not in a mood to have a conversation.
My smile grew big. My hands raised on their own, holding his cheek without my permission.
His face, the edges, the eyes, strong jawline and chin...
He looked like such a mad ice monster...mad to get me...
His hand enclosed mine in a warm wrapping, interlocking my fingers with his.
Our eyes went from each other to our hand, then back to each other.
I swear there was traffic. Cars must be honking. But everything else became a blur.
A small movement flashed inside his mouth, as if suppressing a thought. His eyes were preying on me in solitude, with a side of something soft hidden.
He looked down at my hand being wrapped by his like a monster's hand to a princess's.
He pulled it from his cheek, placing it infront of his lips.
My breath stopped because I saw it coming.
He leaned in on the palm of my hand, showering it with kisses.
I had never seen this side of his. So kind, gentle and meaningful.
All the traits opposite from being a terrorist.
It made my heart skinny dip in a most grueling thought.
Am i wrong about him?
But how? How can I be wrong about him? He is a terrorist...
But then why doesn't he feel like one when he is with me...
"Wondering if I am a terrorist or not?"
He snapped my attention back on him, just like that reading into my mind. It wasn't his first time.
A sinking thought crashed my mind, blinking at him.
How the heck do I get along so well with a goddamn terrorist?
I cleared my throat, shooting him a forced smile.
"Why would I even think that? That's such a stupid thought. Of course you are. A terrorist...just rather cultured at times."
He continued drilling his eyes on me, making my forehead tighten in response.
"That's a fair assessment. Though I am not that bad."
I rolled my eyes. This man is so full of it.
"Of course you are not..."
"Was that sarcasm?"
"I don't know, what do you think?"
"Why would I think? I don't psychoanalyse people like you did the first time at my office."
My jaw tightened. But i hinged closer to his ice driven eyes, drawing myself in them. He didn't move back, let alone flinch. He kept the pressure on me to keep up.
"You know..." I muttered,
"Call it psychoanalysis, Don. I think only see the one thing in your eyes linger more than it should when you are with me."
"Ah uh." His eyes narrowed in a sharp ice slide, crashing in at me. His lips brushed against mine, causing my heart to toss away in the dirt.
He whispered, flowing low and honey smooth.
YOU ARE READING
Can I Kill You? (COMPLETED)
RomanceI looked at the table. The bowl was there in the same spot, but there was no sign of the fork. Where the heck did the fork go!? All this while, he was looking right at me like a wolf ripping off a human's flesh, which made matters even worse. I felt...
