Ever: The Ever Trilogy, Book One (Volume 1) by Jessa Russo [paranormal]

for his hand. It fit perfectly there, cupping my head and holding me to him. I let him kiss me, his mouth exploring mine, wiping most thoughts from my mind.
    Maybe Jess has kissed so many boys because none of them have been like this. There’s no way they’ve been like this. His hand moved to the side of my neck, resting just below my ear. His thumb moved back and forth over my jawline. More shivers travelled through me, the sensation of his hand on my skin an amazing feeling.
    Or, maybe they’ve all been like this. Hmm.
    After a few minutes of kissing, he pulled back to look at me. I was breathless and excited, wanting more, so much more. His eyes were so amazingly dark and unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I couldn’t look away, even though I felt self-conscious under his intense stare. After a few long seconds of him studying my face and me trying to control my breathing, I broke the silence.
    “So … what do you do anyway? For work, I mean.”
    He visibly tensed, and I wondered why. He sat back beside me, his hands holding one of mine in his lap again, absently playing with my fingers.
    “I’ve told you just about everything there is to know about me, you know.”
    He looked over at me and smiled, nodding. “You have a point. Well, I travel a lot, obviously. We have jobs all over the place.”
    I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
    “Okay, and … ?”
    “Well, I’m a collector. Of sorts.”
    “A collector? Oh, like antiques or something?”
    “Sure. You could say that. I work for Ted, I mean, my dad . Sometimes we have to travel. It’s cool.”
    “You call your dad Ted?” I’d never understood kids who refused to call their parents what they were— Mom and Dad. Except for Jessie of course; she had her reasons. Valid reasons at that.
    “No, well, yeah. Sort of. I call him that when we’re on a job. It’s more professional than ‘dad.’ I guess I just get used to it, and sometimes it slips out.”
    “So, what do you do with the antiques? Do you guys have a shop or something? An EBay store?” My mom could lose hours searching for the perfect item at the perfect price.
    “No, definitely not EBay.” He said with a laugh. “I guess the best way to explain it is that we have jobs where we are sent to collect one thing in particular for the person we work for.”
    “And then that person sells them on eBay?”
    He laughed at my insistence on referring back to eBay. “Yes, yes, okay, like eBay, but not eBay.”
    I could tell he wasn’t going to elaborate further, but I kind of understood. eBay, but not eBay. Maybe flea markets were more his style. Or antique stores. That made sense. Some things were too valuable to sell on eBay, so they’d find their home in a fancy antique store instead. Maybe the people who hired Toby and his dad owned high-end antique stores.
    He changed the subject shortly after that, and before I even realized it, we’d been talking about me and only me for hours. Just like during our previous dates, he managed to keep me talking and seemed to thoroughly enjoy learning every single detail about me, while I again learned nothing about him. He kept asking questions and digging, never leaving me room to turn the topic back to him. My life. My likes. My dislikes. My friends. My family. My dog. I don’t think there was anything we hadn’t covered between Sunday and tonight, except Frankie, of course. But somehow, it felt like I could continue talking to him forever and he wouldn’t be bored.
    My yawns were increasing in frequency and strength, however, and my eyes began to water with each one. Before I knew it, I’d stopped talking and was barely aware of the fact that I’d fallen asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest peacefully lulling me. I tried to tell myself to open my eyes, but nothing happened.
    “Ever? I think you should probably go inside and get some sleep. It’s pretty late.”
    “Hmm?”
    “Ever? Wake up.”
    Half asleep, I pulled open