This week's teaser is from Dori, who doesn't pop up until the third book in the Between the Lines series. Again, if you haven't read the first three, this post is one big spoiler, so proceed at your own risk.
Good For You (#3)
He doesn’t answer, staring at me like he’s analyzing a complex riddle. Uncrossing his arms, he hooks one hand in his front pocket while the other lifts, his fingers catching a strand of hair too short to stretch to the elastic pulling the rest of my hair back. He slides it behind my ear, grazing the tip with his finger, and suddenly there’s no sound but the pounding of my heart. This is where I should put my hands up between us like I did before. This is where I should say excuse me and get out of here.
His hand drops to his side and he stares down at me, making no movement towards me or away. I suck my lower lip into my mouth, a nervous habit leftover from childhood, and his gaze drops there, sticks. A minute passes before he braces a hand on the wall just over my shoulder and leans closer, his eyes flashing to mine. “Tell me what to do next, because I’m not sure what you want.” His voice has gone rusty and low, like he hasn’t used it in weeks.
I know what he’s asking, despite the words threading across this scene: This is not happening. I shake my head, barely moving. Thoughts tumble through my mind, blurred, flashing in and out, opposites: kiss me, don’t touch me, come closer, move away.
“All I’m asking,” his knuckles brush along my jaw, “is that you tell me, Dori, what... you... want.”
When he straightens and begins to back away, I almost protest, biting my lip to keep from doing so. This movement betrays me, though, because again, he stares at my mouth a long moment before his gaze shifts to my eyes.
“Or maybe, just tell me if I do something you don’t want,” he says quietly.
Here Without You (#4)
“What do you want to do… while you’re here?”
His low chuckle initiates a warmth in the pit of my belly that spreads like a slow blaze. “Do you need to ask? It feels like months since I’ve gotten my hands on you.”
Entering the library, my voice drops to a whisper. “It’s been ten days, I think.”
“Months,” he insists. “And did you just say you're wearing mittens? Photo. Now.”
I shake my head and laugh soundlessly. “You’ll just have to wait and see them in person.”
“Is there a matching hat? And scarf? Hmm, I like the thought of a scarf… scarves are so handy for draping or blindfolding or trussing—”
“Stop that,” I hiss softly. “It’s abnormal to blush like this in the library, you know. Maybe you should bring your own scarf and I’ll use it on you.” When he doesn’t reply, I say, “Reid?”
“Sorry. I’m way too turned on for a proper comeback.”