Page 72 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B
One brow lifts under his hat like—
you still with me, Sonny?
My hand drifts over,
stopping short of touching him.
An inch away.
I tap the leather once.
The corner of his mouth tugs up,
reluctant, uneven, mad I still get to him.
He’s pissed and hurt,
but he’s still drowning in me.
It’s the kind of smile you give to the one who broke you, but the one you still crave, the one who still makes your heart ache.
His fingers crawl to mine,
closing the gap,
finding my knuckles.
The pads skim over them soft.
One by one.
Pulling heat from the bone.
I can’t look away from his stare,
half-lidded and glazed.
Mercy in one eye.
Madness in the other.
My hand turns over in his.
Then his finger trails provocatively
along the inside of my palm,
dark eyes chained to mine.
In this car,
it’s two naked hands,
one gaze,
and zero self-control.
New York turns mute,
