“Fucking creep.”
The bartender drops down our drinks and returns his card, along with a black checkbook.
Josh is a creep. And a ratbag. And a?—
Elliot leans closer, his hand slipping to my hip. “I like this dress.”
My roommate is touching me, and my brain is short circuiting, and holy crap his hands are so freaking large.
Your dress, Loren. He said he likes your dress.
“R-really?”
“Yes. Do you know what I like even more?” When I shake my head, his grip tightens. “The pockets.” He slides one hand into my pocket. With my legs tucked beneath the bar, no one else seems to notice, but I do.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Exploring these pockets you seemed so proud of earlier. Is that okay?” The silken lining is the only barrier between us as his fingertips skim where my hip meets my thigh.
Yes. Okay. More than okay. “My pockets are your pockets.”
His fingers still. “Are you wearing panties?”
Heat blooms up my throat when I shake my head.
“Fuck.” He resumes his exploration, more urgently than before, back and forth, dipping a little lower each time, until I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust.
“I lied,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear, sending tingles all the way down my spine. “I said I didn’t care. The truth is, I care way more than I should. If you’re going out, I want it to be with me.”
I’m trying hard not to romanticize this. To keep my head above water. But each stroke of his fingers threatens to pull me under.
How easy it would be to drown in his touch.
I reach for my glass, desperate for something to do with my own useless hands. I should tell him to stop. But the truth is, stopping is the last thing on my mind. “What would we be doing right now if I’d come out with you instead?”
I feel his smile against my cheek. “Spread your legs, and I’ll show you.”
My mind is screaming so loudly, I’m surprised no one seems to be able to hear it. I can’t believe this is happening.
Wait.Isit happening or am I dreaming?
Spread your legs, and I’ll show you.
The lights flash red, as if the world is telling us to stop. From the end of the bar, I catch Josh glowering. “He’s watching.”
Elliott’s nose grazes the column of my throat, the stubble on his jaw grazing my shoulder. “Good. Now, stop looking at him and look at me.” He nips my earlobe, his teeth clicking against my earring. “Open up for me, Chaos. Let’s show him how good I can make you feel.”
My heart rate kicks up. Am I going to let this happen?
I’ve been fighting the hypnosis since the day we met.
I don’t want to fight anymore.
Tonight, I want to give in.
I turn my head so I can stare into his deep blue eyes.
Yeah, I’m totally letting this happen.
