Crushing on Royalty (The Cuttings #1) [To Be Reconstructed]

10 | A Trip Across the Pond

I was ready.

My eyes flashed red and I began to look at the digital clock on bedside table.

2:45 AM.

Perfect. I stood up slowly from the floor, my hair looking insanely like Sadako's. Not that I watched that, because I totally did not like watching horror movies (especially Japanese versions, thank you very much). I was being careless with my silk nightdress, a hem clinging awkwardly on my hip that was stuck inside my underwear.

Walking slowly, my feet pressing on the plush burgundy carpet, a throw pillow in my hand. I stared menacingly at the perfect sleeping body lying on the bed, bare-chest and all and his belly facing the mattress. Michael's head was sideways on the pillow with his arms stretched out casually as he slept. He looked so gorgeous and adorably cute as he slept, the moonlight silhouetting his perfect features -- but all that look would certainly end when I was through with him.

For some reason, he wasn't snoring. All the guys I knew snored a hell louder than was necessary, even if they had no clue they were doing it. Michael was a quiet sleeper, and that was all the more better because no one would suspect he was being croaked. I grinned.

God, I was turning into such a psychopath but I couldn't help it.

He tossed his back on the mattress, face clear in front of me. He was sleeping like a baby. Perfect.

I gripped my throw pillow hard, ready to place it on his smooth and clear face until I saw clearly that he was not only a perfect teenager, but a god. With a god's body. It even seemed like he was glowing because of the freaking moonlight!

I shook my head, cursing myself for being so thoroughly distracted whenever I saw his handsome face. Or his hot body.

With a deep breath, I raised my throw pillow above my head, ready to slap it onto his face. As I began to swish it down, an arm snaked around my waist in a quick movement, pulling me into the bed, with the wind knocked right out of me.

Yelping in shock, Michael's face loomed over me with his eyes sultry as he looked at me through his long and spiky lashes. He was circling his thumbs on my hips through the silk fabric, then one hand came down from my calves up and up and up to my thighs, smoothing down my legs. He cocked his head a little to the side, his hot breath lingering on my skin. My heart was thudding like a maniac.

"What were you thinking?" he murmured silkily, his hands tracing over my legs and hips. His breath caressed my jaw, my neck, my ear. I couldn't even speak, much less breathe, for God's sake. "Were you planning on 'killing' me?"

I squeaked when his left hand rose higher from my thighs, lifting the hem of my nightdress halfway to my waist, his warm palm resting lightly there.

"You know you can't kill me, Keller," he said conversationally, his eyes lingering into my green ones.

"If you did, you wouldn't be able to feel all this" -- his left hand traced my stomach gently with his knuckles over the fabric, the other still gripping my hip, squeezing it gently -- "or this" -- his right hand left its place and cupped my bottom, torturing me with feelings I couldn't fathom -- "or maybe even do this" -- his lips landed on my neck and kissed it, opening his mouth to expose his white teeth that were grazing the thin skin lightly, leaving fire.

He kissed my neck achingly slow all the way to my jaw, my cheek, and lastly...my lips. He kissed me there softly, his hands roaming everywhere all the while. At first, his kiss was gentle and lazy, until he heard me gasp when his hands pressed onto my back, sending heat all over me.

I could hear him smirk as if he knew the power he had, then he began to kiss me more passionately, roughly, leaving me with full of strange desire. He was telling me something I couldn't comprehend well...