The Chemistry of Love(61)

“You eat ketchup? Don’t your kind stick to gold-plated caviar and artichokes?”

“Artichokes? That’s your insult?”

“Have you ever tasted one?” I asked him. It was a big insult.

“Come on, hit me with your best shot,” he said. “Ask me if I’m tired because I’ve been running through your mind all day. Or if it hurt when I fell from heaven.”

“Cheesy pickup lines? That’s what we’re relying on now? We are in real trouble.”

“I’ll have you know that cheesy pickup lines can work really well under the right circumstances.”

“Are those circumstances the other person is so drunk that they don’t notice?” I asked.

“Give it a try.”

“Okay.” I felt so ridiculously stupid. I could not use some dumb line on him. I’d never be able to get through it with a straight face. I let out a muffled groan. “This is what I like about science. If I add a precise amount of potassium metal to an exact amount of chlorine gas, then I get potassium chloride. Every time.”

“I’m sorry life is more subjective than that.”

“Me too. A well-ordered world would be so much easier to navigate.”

He spun me again, and this time I came back to the right spot. Which was actually disappointing. I liked the accidental crash from earlier.

“I’ll start you off. Marco, I dream about you at night.” He said it in a high-pitched voice, like he was imitating me.

I smacked his right shoulder while he laughed.

“Fine. You are . . . nicely shaped. You have muscles that, um, are there and it works.” So, so dumb.

“I would say more asthmatic otter than hyperventilating walrus,” he said. “What else do you have?”

I tried batting my eyelashes at him. I remembered Catalina saying something about that once.

“Is there something in your eye?” he asked. “Or is that more of your flirting? Because I have notes.”

“There’s nothing in my eye,” I snapped back at him.

“Hang on. You’ve got an eyelash on your cheek.”

He reached up gently, and I held my breath. His finger touched my cheek so lightly, but it was like he’d pushed some detonator button inside me and everything had gone up in flames.

Marco got the eyelash and held his finger up in front of my lips. “Make a wish,” he said softly.

I was afraid to. I should wish for this to work out and to end up with Craig, but I didn’t. I made a wish that I had no intention of saying out loud. I wasn’t even going to say it to myself.

I blew against his finger and fought off the instinct to kiss the tip while it was within kissing range of my mouth.

“So it seems like we’ve got a long night ahead of us,” he said as he moved his hand back to my waist. His voice sounded a little off, but I didn’t know why. “Because at some point you are going to have to have a conversation with Craig.”

“We’ve had conversations, thank you very much.” I was annoyed by how he acted like he knew everything and I was some idiot kid sister he had to help. “So, Mr. Expert, how would you seduce me if the situation were reversed?”

He came to a complete stop. He was still holding me in place, but we weren’t dancing. He moved so that one hand was still at my waist, and with the other, he reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear, caressing the outer shell lightly with his fingers.

I was already a pile of putty.

“Women are different than men,” he said, his fingers moving down my neck, onto my shoulder, my arm, until they joined his other hand at my waist. There were trails of fire everywhere he had touched me.

Everywhere he was still touching me.

“I would tell you how beautiful you look tonight. How my breath caught in my throat when you walked into my room. How I’ve been thinking all night how much I want to be alone with you, talk to you, be close to you. Touch you.”

While he spoke in that low and mesmerizing tone, his voice rough and exciting, he was pulling me closer to him so that we were pressed together again.

Holy Treebeard. It was totally, one hundred percent working. I knew it was all a lie, but I was falling for it. Like a piano out of a twelfth-story window.

He leaned his head down so that his lips were close to my ear. “Then, because it’s you, I would tell you my heart must be made of gallium because it melts when you’re close to me.”

The words tickled my ear, making me shivery and fiery. Turned out he was right about the cheesy pickup line, because I was ready to drag him to his bedroom.

When I realized that I was probably the only woman in the world who would respond to his science line, it showed me just how perceptive he was and that he understood women in a way that I would never understand men.

Or he understood me in a way that I would never understand him.

I also thought of how much I wanted this to be real. I was basically panting at his words, not able to breathe normally.

I noticed that he seemed to be breathing a bit harder, too.

“Should I tell you that I think the reaction between you and me would be exothermic?” he asked as he pressed his fingers into my back, still making me shiver and want his heat. Because anything that happened between us would be somehow exothermic and endothermic simultaneously, thank you.