In sleep, Max looked younger, softer. She had long eyelashes that rested against her cheeks. Her nose was small and turned up slightly at the end. Even sleeping, she had the sexiest lips I had ever seen.
Full and slightly puckered, it was like they were calling to me. And I couldn’t stop thinking about her saying she wasn’t sorry I kissed her.
Not that it mattered. She was taken. I was doomed to always be attracted to the girls I couldn’t have. Plus, what she’d told me earlier … it couldn’t have been easy. I could tell how raw the memories left her, and the last thing I wanted was to take advantage of that tenderness.
I was about to nudge her awake when her eyes opened, and she caught me staring at her. She blinked a few times and then her eyes narrowed on me. She sat up and slid to the complete opposite side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Whatever closeness we’d gained earlier didn’t appear to have carried over through her nap.
The walls were back up and I was still on the outside. “I swear it’s not as creepy as it looks.” “Said the serial killer to the police.”