Read Online Crazy About Love: An All About Love Novel by Cassie Mae - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cassie Mae
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thumb and hooks to another ring on her forefinger by a silver chain. I want to like this girl. I want to feel something with her. I want it so much I can practically taste the desperation.
Like ten-years-ago Alec would’ve done, I suck in a large breath and hold it before sliding my fingers down the inside of her arm. They get caught in the crease of her wrist, and I tickle the skin there lightly, playfully, wanting to feel something like victory or joy or just
anything
, but even when I lace our fingers together, the air feels the same around us.
Instead of letting her take the lead this time, I drag her across the room and into the punk shop.
“I’ll buy your pants, you buy my shirt?” she suggests with a cute bat of her eyes.
“You really like games, don’t you?”
“I like surprises.”
My eyebrows rise, and I make a daring move by pulling our linked hands up to my lips. I kiss every one of her knuckles, keeping eye contact, trying to chase away the feeling of not feeling anything. And Rian takes a step closer, drops our hands, and rises on her tiptoes.
That’s right. She wants her midnight kiss early. And I shouldn’t mind giving it to her. I’m available. A bachelor. She paid for a night with me.
Then why do I feel so damn guilty for even thinking about it?
My eyes break from hers for literally less than a second, but it’s enough to make her back away and just tap my nose with her finger.
“Let’s shop.” She plops her heels back down. “I don’t like brown.”
“And I’m cool with just blue jeans,” I say in front of a rack of brightly colored pants. She automatically reaches for a pair, but I tickle her until she detours to the much better pants choices.
Twenty minutes later I’m in a pair of brand-new jeans that have holes and frayed edges but are better than the construction-orange pair Rian tried to get me to put on. She only relented after I shoved an ugly-ass brown jacket at her.
And clearly I can’t shop for a girl, because I kept picking the first thing I saw and handing it over, and the responses I got were “That’s insanely big” or “I’m not a fifteen-year-old” or “That’s a skirt, Alex with a
c
.”
She finally approved the jacket she’s wearing now. It’s deep red and black plaid that really showcases all the ink across her chest when she leaves it unbuttoned.
“Are you staring at my breasts, Magic Mike?”
“The tattoos.” With a grin I tear my eyes away and look out at the dance floor.
“Yeah…I believe you,” she teases, then grabs my shirt and pulls me into the crowd. Rian sure likes to tug me around. I wonder if she’s got a dog.
“So this one here—” she says, pointing at her collarbone before putting her hand on my ass and slamming us together. I gulp, clear my throat, and start moving with her to the beat. I’m not nervous, which is something I usually am when I’m dancing with a near stranger. It’s more like a guilty pang, something I’ve been trying to ignore all night.
“—I designed it myself,” she continues. It’s too dark for me to see the tattoo properly, so I set my hands on her hips and gently pull her closer. The dancing lights run across her skin, and I get a good look at a bleeding flower. No, wait…it’s not bleeding.
“I like to incorporate water into everything.” She reaches for my hand, laces our fingers, and brings them to her chest. She covers my hand, pushing with gentle pressure so my fingertips skim her skin. “The China lily…it’s crying,” she says, pushing up again on her tiptoes to whisper it in my ear. “Do you like it?”
I raise an eyebrow. Honestly, I don’t get it. But I should probably say that I like it, or kiss her, or something. She’s obviously trying with me, while I’m…I’m still numb.
What in the hell is wrong with me? I have a girl grinding against me, whispering in my ear, willing to help me get over someone else, and I just can’t
feel anything
.
Scratch that. I
Like ten-years-ago Alec would’ve done, I suck in a large breath and hold it before sliding my fingers down the inside of her arm. They get caught in the crease of her wrist, and I tickle the skin there lightly, playfully, wanting to feel something like victory or joy or just
anything
, but even when I lace our fingers together, the air feels the same around us.
Instead of letting her take the lead this time, I drag her across the room and into the punk shop.
“I’ll buy your pants, you buy my shirt?” she suggests with a cute bat of her eyes.
“You really like games, don’t you?”
“I like surprises.”
My eyebrows rise, and I make a daring move by pulling our linked hands up to my lips. I kiss every one of her knuckles, keeping eye contact, trying to chase away the feeling of not feeling anything. And Rian takes a step closer, drops our hands, and rises on her tiptoes.
That’s right. She wants her midnight kiss early. And I shouldn’t mind giving it to her. I’m available. A bachelor. She paid for a night with me.
Then why do I feel so damn guilty for even thinking about it?
My eyes break from hers for literally less than a second, but it’s enough to make her back away and just tap my nose with her finger.
“Let’s shop.” She plops her heels back down. “I don’t like brown.”
“And I’m cool with just blue jeans,” I say in front of a rack of brightly colored pants. She automatically reaches for a pair, but I tickle her until she detours to the much better pants choices.
Twenty minutes later I’m in a pair of brand-new jeans that have holes and frayed edges but are better than the construction-orange pair Rian tried to get me to put on. She only relented after I shoved an ugly-ass brown jacket at her.
And clearly I can’t shop for a girl, because I kept picking the first thing I saw and handing it over, and the responses I got were “That’s insanely big” or “I’m not a fifteen-year-old” or “That’s a skirt, Alex with a
c
.”
She finally approved the jacket she’s wearing now. It’s deep red and black plaid that really showcases all the ink across her chest when she leaves it unbuttoned.
“Are you staring at my breasts, Magic Mike?”
“The tattoos.” With a grin I tear my eyes away and look out at the dance floor.
“Yeah…I believe you,” she teases, then grabs my shirt and pulls me into the crowd. Rian sure likes to tug me around. I wonder if she’s got a dog.
“So this one here—” she says, pointing at her collarbone before putting her hand on my ass and slamming us together. I gulp, clear my throat, and start moving with her to the beat. I’m not nervous, which is something I usually am when I’m dancing with a near stranger. It’s more like a guilty pang, something I’ve been trying to ignore all night.
“—I designed it myself,” she continues. It’s too dark for me to see the tattoo properly, so I set my hands on her hips and gently pull her closer. The dancing lights run across her skin, and I get a good look at a bleeding flower. No, wait…it’s not bleeding.
“I like to incorporate water into everything.” She reaches for my hand, laces our fingers, and brings them to her chest. She covers my hand, pushing with gentle pressure so my fingertips skim her skin. “The China lily…it’s crying,” she says, pushing up again on her tiptoes to whisper it in my ear. “Do you like it?”
I raise an eyebrow. Honestly, I don’t get it. But I should probably say that I like it, or kiss her, or something. She’s obviously trying with me, while I’m…I’m still numb.
What in the hell is wrong with me? I have a girl grinding against me, whispering in my ear, willing to help me get over someone else, and I just can’t
feel anything
.
Scratch that. I
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