He’s sickeningly pleased with himself, the ass. Meanwhile, I’m so mad, I’m almost vibrating. And he still hasn’t gotten off me. His forearms are propped on either side of my head. Pelvis to chest, his body rests against mine. He’s warm and heavy, smells faintly of peppermint and something spicy, and I hope that’s a gun in his pants’ pocket, because holy … Our eyes lock. His smile dies. A flicker of something other than disdain appears in his cold blue eyes. In one swift motion, he rolls off me and stands.
