Masking Amaya Frazer

{6} Could This Be Love

"Milo," I gasped when his lips tenderly kissed the skin above my sternum. I tangled my fingers in his hair, wondering what those lips would feel like against my own.

"Hm?" He murmured, working his way back up to my exposed shoulder.

Dragging his face to mine, I searched his eyes, finding dark hues of navy blue surrounding his pupil in the center of his irises. Closing the distance between us, I tentatively brushed my lips across his, and melted into his touch.

Milo possessively snagged an arm around my waist as I nipped his bottom lip. He made a noise deep in his throat, kissing me back with passion. I inhaled sharply, and he took that as an opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss.

By the time we broke apart, we were both breathing heavily, wearing identical expressions of shock. The rough, almost desperate, way we interacted with each other felt different than the first night we had met.

A furious blush crawled up my neck, staining my cheeks. I was grateful for the dark lighting of the club to disguise the evidence of my embarrassment.

Milo swiped the back of his hand over his mouth as if he were erasing the heated kiss that we shared. Rubbing the back of his neck, he took a step back and averted his gaze.

"I thought Dove's were innocent," he muttered.

Milo had the power to disarm me no matter how hard I tried to keep him at a distance. His claim of having the gift to see through my mask wasn't quite right; he literally removed the entire facade I put on and saw the person I fought to hide from the entire world.

I'd made a vow to be more careful around him and here I was making out with the guy when just hours earlier he had witnessed my tears as I spilled the problems of my life to him.

And yet, I didn't know the slightest thing about Milo other than he had an uncanny ability to draw out my real personality and see me for who I actually was. Oh, and he was supposedly a skilled artist who also happened to be colorblind.

"I need some air," I announced, ignoring his remark as I turned to leave.

Jessi waved me over from the bar where she unabashedly flirted with the bartender. In no mood to stay, I rushed to her side, saying, "Hey, I'm ready to go."

She frowned. "But you looked like you were having a good time with..." she trailed off, raising her eyes to something above my shoulder.

Grabbing Milo's wrist, I assured, "It's not like that," and led the two of us outside.

Plumes of hot air rushed from our mouths as we stood outside in the brisk night, shivering on the sidewalk.

"Listen," I started. "I don't know what happened back in there," I gestured at the door, "but it shouldn't have happened."

Milo remained stoic, regarding me with a closed-off, unreadable expression. "Keep telling yourself that, Dove. The way your body moved said otherwise."

"I'm serious, Milo," I said as snowflakes dusted my hair, "We're practically strangers."

He clicked his tongue in aggravation, narrowing his eyebrows. He took a step forward, backing me into the bricks of the building. I didn't dare breathe as he invaded my personal space, leaning in my face.

"If we're strangers, then why do I know that your parents are getting a divorce? I shouldn't know that your family can't afford to pay for this school or that you'll have to transfer. Don't forget that I know you take your frustration out on your body."

He snatched my wrist in his hand, running a finger above the raised scar tissue as he had done during art class.

Tearing my gaze from his lips that had been on mine not too long ago, I forced out, "I can't."