Big Bad Wolfie

29) Deadly Smiles

  Hehehe.

  That was fun.

  And terrible.

  But mostly fun!

  . . . Not really, it was pretty unbearable.

The way his scent felt all over me and in my nose and lungs was heaven.

What I didn't like was what it did to my head. It made me feel out of control. I'm no stranger to the feeling, but the consequences are the opposite of heavenly.

  When he took off that d@mn shirt of his, my lungs felt like they do when I see a needle or. . . Never mind. They felt like they were closing in on me, and my heart was beating tens of beats per minute.

  All my instincts were telling me to take a bite.

  A loonnggg, delicious bite.

  But if I expect him to show restraint, I have to too.

  But now I'm in some room in their pack house. I don't quite know why I chose this one to run to. It's on the third floor and pretty deep within the house.

  All I know, is that it smells like him.

And is covered in pictures of him.

So it's probably his room.

Great place to hide from him, right?

Definitely not, but that didn't stop me from slowly running my fingers along the desk. Or taking one of the pillows and holding it to my chest.

I took in a long, deep breath and the smell of guy's shampoo and him flooded my senses.

I should really get out of here.

Oh look, pictures. Fun.

I walked over to the full body mirror with pictures taped all over the perimeter, pillow in hand.

Where to start?

My eyes were drawn to one of him, Happy, and some other guy at a lake. They were all wearing swim trunks and no shirt.

I think I'm developing an obsession with his chest.

But his arms are so nice too!

But those abs!

Apparently the obsession is with his entire upper body. Good to know.

It might even compete with his eyes or smile.

But I digress. My eyes kept skimming around the mirror and it seemed that in every single one of the pictures he was smiling.

Smiling a beautiful and dangerous smile.

It's only dangerous to me really, but that doesn't take away its merit.

. . . It's a smile that hasn't been directed at me since. . . Ever. He hasn't smiled at me once. Only smirks and vexing grins have been sent my way.

And it f**king hurts.

  So much.

Why does it hurt so much? And why does it only hurt sometimes?

. . . I guess the same reason all the bad memories only hurt sometimes.

But when they do they hurt like a b***h.

Makes sense.

F**k, now I'm crying.

And cussing. Telltale sign I'm f**king sad.