“Look,” I muttered. “We can't date or go out. It would be weird.”
He arched a brow. “We had sex. Twice.”
Warmth flooded my cheeks, and I pushed to my feet, snagging the nearest hair tie, and twisting it round my hair roughly.
“That's different. We didn’t plan it. Either time. Sometimes things just happen, situations escalate. It makes you question your sanity after, but you have a plausible defense because it wasn’t premeditated. Like murder. It's not as bad if it wasn't planned.”
Leon's blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “Murder? Should I be concerned?”
I rolled my eyes, collecting the clothes scattered across the floor and tossing them to him. “It was an example. But yeah, you should. Now, get dressed.”
I pivoted as he rose, not trusting myself to look directly at him in all his naked glory in the light of day.
“So, we can fuck,” he murmured, drawing up behind me, too close, “but only if it isn't pre-arranged?”
“Yes… I mean, no.” I shook my head. “We're not fucking again, either.”
A hand fastened around my hip, drawing me back a step until my ass aligned with the part of him I knew with one hundred percent certainty I didn’t hate. “You're confusing me, Snow Queen.”
My brows twitched, mind clouding as I murmured, “Doesn’t take much.”
I felt his smile against the skin of my nape, that light brush producing a tremor that travelled the length of my spine.
“You know you're gonna fuck me again, Lissa.” He dragged his lips gently over my shoulder. “Might as well let me buy you dinner first.”
My mouth opened, head dipping back, lungs pulling in a shuddering breath. “Why do you even want to?”
There was a silence while Leon nudged the material of my shirt aside and pressed a lingering kiss against my skin. “Because I like you, Lissa.”
The husky admission pried yet another finger away from the edge of that jagged rock face, and my chances of plummeting seemed to shift from probable to inevitable.
“Go out with me,” he repeated quietly.
I shook my head, clinging on for dear life. I couldn't see the bottom from all the way up here. The drop might kill me. “I already told you,” I breathed. “I'm not making plans with you.”
“Okay.” He slid a hand down my arm, long fingers sliding between each of mine. “No plans.” His mouth opened over my jaw. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to show up at your door tonight, would you kick my ass to the curb?”
My heart fluttered. “Hypothetically speaking, you'd just have to show up and see what happens.”
“And what about right now?” He ran the tip of his nose down the side of my throat and inhaled. “If I were to lay you down on the bed, spread your legs, and run my tongue over your pussy... that'd be okay, right? Because it wasn't planned...” His voice hummed against my skin, making it tingle as his fingers looped through mine. “... much.”
My stomach clenched. I swallowed then pivoted in his hold, my eyes landing on the hard expanse of his chest. Reaching up, I trailed my hands over his golden skin.
“You talk too much.”
His eyes flashed as his hands dropped to the hem of my sleep shirt. Tugging it up and over my head in one fluid motion, he smirked before he tossed me down on the bed.
“Better shut me up then. Open up, Snow Queen.”
***
My heart thumped against my ribs a split second after the doorbell chimed at seven forty-three. Wearing black skinny jeans, a loose black sweater and boots, minimal make-up, and French braids either side of my head, it was my this isn’t a date and I’ve made zero fucking effort look. Yeah, I’d yanked out and re-styled my hair three times, agonized over the outfit choice, and the make-up application had taken three times longer than usual. But it didn’t fucking look like it. And that’s what was important.
Because this wasn’t a date.
Flicking off the light in the den as I left the room, the clunky heels of my boots clomping over the hardwood, I paused before opening the door, overcome with the nervous energy fizzing through my veins.
Get a fucking hold of yourself.