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My life was unpredictable, and my future was bleak, but I had no doubts that wherever I ended up, this girl would forever have a hold over me.
“This round?” Defiant as always, she looked up at me with those ridiculously sexy green eyes and arched a perfectly groomed brow. “I always win, Joe.”
Yeah, she did, even when it wasn’t good for her.
Her body was pressed against mine, causing her tits to brush against my chest every time she breathed. It was entirely too much in this moment, and I was having a hard time keeping my head on straight. I could hear murmurs of a conversation happening around us, but I couldn’t make out a single word of it, because my entire focus was on the girl who’d been successfully tormenting me from the first day we met.
Because every part of me loved every part of her.
The good, the bad, and the ugly.
I fucking reveled in all of it.
She had my heart in knots and my head spinning.
Never once taking her eyes off mine, she trailed her long red nails down my stomach to my belt buckle and tugged me closer.
Fuck.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she took the hand I had on her hip and placed it on her peachy ass. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she curled a hand around my neck and pulled my face down to hers. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know.”
“You crushed me.”
Pain. It hit me square in the chest. “I know.”
“Bad boy.” Her breath was laced with alcohol and so fucking warm on my face when she whispered, “Tell me you’re sorry.”
I gave in without a fight, too weary and too damn in love to fight my feelings. “I’m sorry.”
“How sorry?”
“Very sorry.”
“Good boy.” Her tongue was on my ear then, her body pressed flushed against mine. “Now, tell me you love me.”
“I love you.” The words flew off my tongue in record time.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“Hmm.” Taking my hand in hers, she led me onto the dance floor, and like the habit of a lifetime, I followed after her, knowing that this girl was by far my greatest addiction.
“What are you doing?”
“You broke my heart,” she told me, moving my hands to her hips as she curled her arms around my neck and stepped closer. “The least you can do is dance with me.”
Too weary to argue and too damn weak to resist, I pulled her close, thankful for the vodka in my stomach, because I was in no way comfortable with dancing, but this girl, well, I seemed to do just about anything she asked.
Drunk on vodka and regret, I kept my hands clamped on her hips, feeling her curvy body press against mine as she ground her hips against me, while the melancholy sound of LIVE’s “Lightning Crashes” drifted around us.
As my brain processed the lyrics, a horrible weighted energy settled on my shoulders.
