Ten Below Zero(35)

“‘Choice’ is not exactly the word I would use. Where are my clothes?”

“Hiding.” His arms were wrapped around my waist, my back to his chest, as we shared the view of the Las Vegas strip.

“Well then, I guess this is one less article of black clothing you’ll be able to wear.” I didn’t know what to do with my hands. This position felt like cuddling, and I was more than slightly uncomfortable with it.

Everett squeezed his arms gently, pulling me even closer to him. His nose found my neck and I heard him inhale. “You smell great,” he said after a moment.

“What do I smell like?”

“Me. It’s a great smell.”

I rolled my eyes. I squirmed again, uncomfortable being so close to him, with his face nuzzling my neck.

“We need to finish the rules before tonight,” he said, his lips on my neck, his fingers on my thighs.

“Okay,” I said, shrugging away from his touch and standing up. I saw Everett already had the paper out. He amended the “no black clothing” to say “no wearing all-black outfits.”

“Outfits?” I asked, sitting in the chair next to him once again. I scrunched up my nose. “That sounds like something you’d dress a baby in.”

Everett looked over at me with his eyebrow raised. “Do you have a better way to word it?” I shook my head. “Okay then, moving on.” He wrote down his next rule. When his hand moved, I read it aloud.

“Sex all the time?” I looked at him dubiously. “How about just ‘sex’? I don’t want to add quantity to it.”

Everett sighed dramatically, but crossed off the “all the time” part. “Okay, what’s your next rule?”

I tapped my finger on my chin, in thought. “I need space,” I finally said. “And I know you don’t have a healthy understanding of personal space, at least in regards to me. But I need time to myself.”

“You’re by yourself all the time, Parker. You live and breathe more inside that skull of yours than you do outside of it.”

“Why do you argue with all my rules?”

“You argue about mine too.”

I shook my head. “I need space, Everett. I need space to breathe, without you around polluting my air.”

“Polluting your air? I don’t think I’ve ever been described so fondly before.”

“You know what I mean. You’re always there. Pinning me to a wall, getting up in my face, forcing me to stay in your arms when I wasn’t comfortable.” My mind drifted to his bed. “Sex or not, I want to fall asleep in my bed.”

“I’m not opposed to sleeping in your bed.”

I wanted to throw the pen at him. “I meant alone. Let me breathe. The more you push me, the more likely I’m going to run.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to run? You want to stay here for a bit?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what I want. You confuse me. I don’t particularly like you, but I’m drawn to you. A moth to a flame.”

“The feeling’s mutual. I don’t particularly like you either.” He grinned. I resisted calling him an * again.

“Can you live with my rule or not?” I asked impatiently.

“Sure.” He didn’t sound convincing. I added it to the list.

“Your turn.”

“I want you to be open to new experiences,” Everett said without hesitation. One of my eyebrows lifted up in question. “If there’s something that I want you to try, but you’re uncomfortable, I want you to be open to it. To try it,” he elaborated.

“That could mean a lot of things,” I protested. “Dangerous things.”

“I would never put you in danger, Parker. Remember the seatbelt? Anything I want to introduce you to, it won’t be dangerous. I can promise that.”

No he couldn’t. But it would be futile arguing. I nodded. “Fine.”

I wrote my next rule on the list for Everett to read aloud. “Be nice?” he asked.

“You like to tease me a lot. I just want you to be nice to me once in a while.”

“Your hair is pretty,” he said, grinning.

I eyed him. “No lying, Everett. Or did you already forget your rule?”

“Okay fine. Your hair looks awful. Your laugh is maniacal. And you’re a terrible driver.”

“Clearly the concept of being nice completely escapes you. And how do you know I’m a terrible driver?” I racked my brain for the moment he experienced my driving. It was when I drove him home from the restaurant, when he was drunk.

“When you drove me home. I wasn’t as drunk as you thought. Unlike you, I’m a good actor.”

I focused my eyes on his. “Wow. You really are an *, aren’t you?”

“Hey,” he said, holding his hand up, stopping me. “These rules apply to us both right? Sounds like the concept of being nice escapes you too.”

“Be nice,” I repeated firmly, rewriting over the word to make it bold. “Next rule?”

“I’m done with rules for now. Let’s get ready.”

“Ready?”

Everett smiled slyly. “We’ve got plans, you and I. Nice plans.” He put emphasis on “nice.”