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The night goes quickly. Alyssa and Ellen swap stories all night, teasing each other and professing their undying friendship. By the time we leave the bar, everyone is too drunk for sense but sober enough to get home okay.
It's dark outside, and a cold wind whips around us. The temperature is somewhere around freezing, but it doesn't faze Alyssa. She grinds her body into mine, slipping her arms under my coat, then under my shirt.
My skin burns from her touch and my body fights to take over. To convince my brain to take her into the alley, press her against the wall, and fuck her until she's screaming.
She's so desperate. She'd come in minutes.
She kisses me hungrily, her tongue sliding into my mouth as her nails dig into my skin. Mhmm. I pull her closer and slide my hands under her skirt. Damn. The fabric of her tights is thin, and it would feel so damn good to peel it off.
We were apart for so long. We have so much time to make up for.
She runs her fingertips over my stomach. It would feel so good to touch her, to have her touch me, but it's a bad idea. Something is wrong, really wrong, and sex is only going to distract her from her feelings.
When we break, she looks up into my eyes expectantly. "It's our last night in New York..." Her voice is low, seductive.
"You're drunk," I say.
"Not that drunk." She leans closer, sliding her hands under my shirt again, sliding her fingertips over my skin.
My heart races, my blood fleeing my brain. Will making Alyssa come really make matters worse? That doesn't seem right.
I grab her ass, pressing my crotch into hers. She sighs and leans into me. Her lips are on my lips. Her tongue is in my mouth. Hell, her hands are on my chest, filling my whole damn body with want.
I need to get inside her and quickly.
But I step back. If this goes any further, I won't be able to stop myself.
"Can we talk?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "I'm not really in the mood for conversation." Her voice is harsh, but she tries to shrug it off. "I suppose we should grab a cab, get our stuff, and get ready for our flight."
I nod.
"Okay," she says, folding her arms but trying not to look annoyed.
"Did something happen?" I ask.
"Yeah. My life was turned upside down for six months." She takes a step towards the street, throwing her arm out to hail a cab.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Alyssa
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I spend most of the flight sleeping off my massive hangover. Ellen wasn't kidding about drinking until we drop.
Luke is sweet, fixing my blanket, offering me water or club soda or saltines. He makes nothing of me not eating. Either he believes it's nausea or he's learned I can take care of myself.
Under the cover of the blanket, I slide my fingers over my engagement ring. But the feeling of the smooth platinum and the hard diamond does nothing to illuminate my situation.
Luke is next to me. If I manage to peel my eyes open to let in the horribly bright lights--God forbid--I'll see him, sitting next to me, reading some paperback piece of pulp fiction, half his attention on me.
He loves me. I don't doubt that, not even for a second.
But Ryan's words keep replaying in my head. Most people aren't strong enough to be with someone so guarded.
Most people aren't strong enough to put up with my bullshit.
