Their Paid Girl

Their Paid Girl - Part 6

          Realizing that Adam Ferrell was kissing me came as the biggest shock of my life. And that was something, coming from a girl that dealt with shocks on a daily basis.

          The strangest thing was that I didn’t really feel anything. Usually, even if I didn’t know the guy, at least it felt mildly pleasant. But with Adam it was just a fact. He was kissing me. And I didn’t like it.

I felt his lips – kind of soft, kind of hard on mine. His angular jaw brushed the bottom of my chin teasingly. His tongue irritated me. And I was aware of his arms lightly resting on my hips.

He smelled yummy, though.

          But the fact that he had dared to go right ahead and kiss me seriously pissed me off. And in one of my most humiliating moments, too. So I took my hands, placed them on his chest, and shoved. Hard.

          Adam pulled away from me, looking disoriented.

          “You--! YOU--!” I floundered again in a helpless rage. I swiped at my lips like a five-year old getting cooties, glaring at a floored Adam. To say he was dumbfounded was the understatement of the century.

          “You complete buttbag!” I shouted, immediately flushing bright red. That had been a really bad one.

          Adam hadn’t recovered enough to muster a reply, probably having never been rejected before in his life. So I took advantage of his silence and fumed at him.

          “You monumental player, you think you can just parade past me and I’ll drop at your feet? I hate you! In fact, if you were holding on to the edge of a cliff, I would jump on your fingers, just to see you fall! You’re such a little piece of—of---” I fumbled as a mother marched by with her hands firmly slapped over her baby boy’s ears. “A piece of manure!” I whispered furiously, lowering my voice.

          Adam continued to stare at me, deep blue eyes looking glazed. “I think I just got rejected,” he said in a slow voice, as though not believing his own sexy ears.

Oh dear God. Had I just called his ears sexy? Sweet heaven, soon I’ll be drooling over his manly elbows, for crying out loud. Not that I cared what kind of elbows he had.

“I don’t know what’s more astounding – the fact that you think, or that you wouldn’t know hatred if it smacked you in the face,” I said scathingly, to cover the fact that I was now really curious about his elbows.

Adam got a spark of himself back. Thank God, he had sort of scared me there for a bit.

“You don’t hate me,” he grinned. “You just wish you did.”

I set my mouth in a grim line. “Right,” I said calmly, and promptly leaned over, pulling my shirt over my head.

Adam looked intrigued but also glanced around. “Don’t take this wrong, I mean I appreciate the view and all, but don’t you think that here is a little bit much? I mean, think about the kids—”

“Oh shut up,” I said, throwing my hoodie on the ground, standing in my tank top.

Something in my expression must have made Adam step back a bit because he looked at me. “What are you doing?” he asked nervously.

“Smacking you with some hatred,” I replied, eying him and getting into my attack stance. “I’ll be nice and let you choose where I incapacitate you.”

Adam gave me a condescending smile. “I know you can’t wait to touch me, but can’t you at least control yourself in public?”

Fine. Whatever I hit first.