Wild Bastard by Ella Savitskaya (book suggestions .txt) 📕

The psycho's lips are whispering it in impermissible proximity to mine. I even stop inhaling so I don't have to draw his corrosive scent into my lungs. The palm on my neck burns, and the warmth from his hard body envelops me in a tight cocoon. My heart slows and my pulse begins to throb in my ears.

Matt seems to feel the same way, because suddenly he puts his thumb on my lips and presses it down, examining the work of his own art.

"You're a strong girl, Reenah. I can see that. Hardened," He says slowly, and then suddenly reaches to the side.

I hear the sound of the glass sliding across the table. A moment later, it's against my lips. Matt's right hand pulls the hair at the back of my neck, tilting my head back. The warm wine flows thinly into my mouth. Dark eyes hypnotize me, watching his manipulation in a peculiarly predatory way as the liquid runs down my tongue. My stomach tauts with the power of his movements.

God, why am I reacting this way? Why do all the actions of this hothead cause some inexplicable storm of contradiction inside?

Psycho suddenly removes the glass, presses it to my lips, and pushes his head forward so that the wine overflows into his mouth. Hot lips are pressed into mine, intoxicating for a brief moment. My head goes round and round, the ground shakes.

The short prickly stubble scratches, and I can't understand why I let it do that. I jerk back sharply, and the bright red alcohol spills out onto my top and his white T-shirt, leaving tattered stains on the fabric.

"Very strong, Matt! I advise you not to test this strength. "

My voice hoarshes like unlubricated hinges, but I endure the dark stare. The thumb of his right hand runs down my chin, picking up the residue of alcohol, and the cheeky guy licks it off.

"It was delicious, Rie. But it will taste even better. "

I don't know what it is that makes him move to the door with an intoxicated smirk on his lips at that moment. My demand, or the phone ringing from the pocket of his jeans. Right on the threshold, Matt stops and tosses:

"Thanks for the sister, Rie! "

Only when the door slams shut can I squat down and put my arms around my head to take a few life-saving breaths.

God, this is some kind of obsession. It's crazy. The reaction of the treacherous body is understandable, but not justified. My belly pulses painfully, and my brain resembles an impenetrable fog. Reenah, come to your senses, damn you! Don't you dare give in to his dirty tricks. You're not one of those caterpillars of one-liners that roll around under his feet!

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