Phoenix Knight [A Bad Boy Story] - Editing

Chapter Twenty-One

(A lot of you might know the definition for this one but I didn’t before today) Today’s word of the chapter: ‘Lethargic’. Definition: (Adverb) without energy; in a lethargic manner.

Phoenix is “the perfect image of perfect imperfection” ~ _awwkweirdd_ [Loved that quote c:]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Twenty-One

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Because you look sort of homeless right now,” I stated jokingly as I stared at his marked face.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry that your sweat pants aren’t attractive,” he responded defensively. I glanced down at my pants and pouted involuntarily. I didn’t think they were that hideous. He must have caught my reaction because he continued. “They’re attractive on you, Barbie,” he admitted with a sigh.

“Yeah?” I asked as I placed a hand on either side of his knees and slowly rose. “You think so?” I cocked my head to the side in question. Before he could respond, I folded my knees on either of his thighs and straddled him.

He cleared his throat and seemed nervous within my gaze. “Sort of...,” he muttered distractedly.

I ran my finger from the base of his head down to his collar bone. “Sort of, Phoenix?” I asked. My voice was cool and calm – like a late winter’s breeze – but I felt about as anxious as he looked. I was lucky my voice kept steady.

“Christ,” he murmured as I leaned forward and planted a tentative kiss on his throat.

I felt my heart skip a beat as my lips made contact with his skin and could only hope that he wouldn’t be able to tell that my palms were getting clammy. I slyly wiped them on my sweats

I leaned forward until there was only about an inch between our faces. “That’s a pity,” I stated loudly. I hopped off his legs and turned with the intention of moving seats but couldn’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl when he grabbed my hand and pulled me right back.

I had little time to process what was happening before his lips met mine.

My shoulders sagged as all of my built up stress was released and I reached for his neck.

I worried that my lips were chapped and began wondering about the last time I had brushed my teeth when, thankfully, he placed his hands on my waist and I got lost in his touch. He treated me like I was a delicate item that he could only hold once. His thumb slid under the hem of my t-shirt and started drawing circles on my skin.

I felt like I was melting within his hands.

Without even realising, I moved my left hand to his hair and felt his silky locks within my palms. It was so soft, so well kept; I almost forgot that we were locked within each other’s grips, almost.

 Our kiss had started off slow and careful – almost like we were trying to study one another, understand each other’s lips – but once we were no longer overcome with a need to restrain our true emotions, desire took control and our lips became a hint more desperate.

My heart rate quickened.

The hand I had in his hair released the addictive strands and wandered down to the base of his white t-shirt. My hands were shaking with anxiety as I slipped one palm under the thin material and traced his faintly protruding abdominal muscles. He didn’t seem to mind which calmed me. In fact, it seemed as though it was the correct action to take because I was pulled closer with an accompanying, soft moan that reverberated from the base of his neck and sent me spinning.