Revue by K.M. Golland Page B

happen.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I don’t want to.”
    His voice held an edge of sadness, so I turned to look at him. “Why?”
    “Because you’re different.”
    My forehead creased. I didn’t understand what he meant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “I don’t know exactly.” Josh ran his hand through his hair then gripped the back of the seat’s headrest. “You’re just different. You’re not all la-de-dah and tits-in-my-face. And you don’t like me, and that pisses me off.”
    My gaze dropped to my breasts. Sure, they weren’t huge, but they weren’t tiny either, coming in at a nice manageable DD-cup.
    “There’s nothing wrong with your tits, Corinne,” he said, indifference lacing his tone. “They’re perfect. That’s not what I meant.”
    I flicked my eyes back to his and crossed my arms over my chest, defensively. “What are you getting at, Josh? Just spit it out.”
    “I like being around you. I don’t like being around the others.”
    “So you treat me like shit and fuck them. Yeah, that makes sense.” I returned to watching the passing landscape out of the window, which was basically a blur of trees.
    “Fine. I’ll fuck you and treat them like shit instead. How ’bout that?”
    Rubbing my forehead, I shot him a glance, finding him smiling in anticipation of my reaction. “It’s not going to happen. You do know that, don’t you? I refuse to allow myself to be anyone’s puppet ever again. Especially not your sex puppet.”
    He nodded and went to say something, opening his mouth and then closing it.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Stupid little fucking seats. Men have legs—legs need room. I bet Mr Bus Inventor was a midget.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think Mr Bus Inventor was French.”
    “Well, that explains it. They’re all short fuckers.”
    I shook my head at his ridiculous generalisation. “You’re unbelievable.”
    “Yeah, I’ve been told that many times.”
    “I’m sure you have, but when it comes from the mouth of a skank with no brains, how much can it really mean?” I asked sarcastically.
    A shit-eating grin formed on his face. “I reckon you’re jealous.”
    “I guarantee you, I’m not.”
    “Your bitchy tongue says otherwise.”
    “My bitchy tongue is indifferent to what your tongue says and does, trust me.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Sure is.”
    Rising from his seat, he walked to the front of the bus, returning moments later and tossing one of Baz’s apples in his hand. He then slid back into his seat, eyes gleaming deviltry as he bit into the fruit and crunched loudly.
    “Why are you so happy?” I asked, narrowing my eyes, suspiciously. He had ‘shifty’ written all over him.
    Josh shrugged and kept munching, darting his tongue to catch a drip of juice. He then flicked his gaze to mine before dragging said tongue up the length of the shiny green fruit in one long swipe. My core clenched before my mind caught on to what he was doing. You son-of-a bitch!
    Turning to look out of the window, I rested my head against my hand and tried to ignore his actions. I’d meant what I said about being indifferent to his tongue. Yep, sure did. Don’t give a fat rat’s arse what he can do with it. Don’t care that his apple is seeing more sex than I am. Nope, don’t care.
    Josh moaned ever so slightly. “Mmm … I love apples. They’re so fucking sweet and juicy. I could eat them all day.” He slurped mildly, grabbing my attention once again. I couldn’t fucking help myself and peeked between my fingers, eagerly watching him devour the thing.
    Holy fuck! Never in my life had I ever wanted to be a piece of fruit like I had in that moment. I wanted to snatch that apple from his mouth, climb on top of his fucking head and convince him he’d like my peach just as much. The way his tongue laved the flesh, how his lips pursed as he sucked in the juice, it had my muscles contracting and my heart jumping up