I lean down to Lea’s ear. “Hey, can I talk to you in private for a sec?”
He spins, eyes crinkling, teeth flashing a half-grin. “Why? Mad about something?”
“Maybe,” I murmur, smirking. I loop my arm around his waist, guiding him toward my bedroom. His balance is off—he stumbles slightly, and I catch him, pressing a hand to his back. He leans into me more than I expected, drunkenly trusting, and it sends a thrill straight to my core.
“You’re drunk, Lee” I murmur, tugging him closer once the bedroom door clicks shut. The muffled noise of the party dimsinto background static, leaving just us. I push him gently against the wall, hand on his hip, letting the warmth of him press against me.
“So are you, asshole.”
“Someone’s angry.” I drag my nose against the line of his neck, resisting sinking my teeth into his skin. Resisting leaving my mark on him, so everyone knows he’s mine. “I’m the one who should be mad. Is it so easy to get you blushing that even Jax can do it?”
My thumbs slip into the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer to the hardening bulge in my pants.
He huffs, hazel eyes flashing with anger and frustration. “You were flirting with her. Publicly.”
I tilt my head, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Only to see if you’d notice,” I whisper, letting a finger trace the curve of his jaw. “Only to see if you wanted me.”
He swallows, jaw tight, trying to act composed but failing. “You needed a girl to do that? You couldn’t have just asked me?”
I grin, letting my hand slide lower to rest lightly on his hip again. “I knew you’d notice. And I liked that. I liked seeing you react. Seeing you be jealous.”
His chest heaves slightly, alcohol flushing his cheeks a darker shade, heat rising. “Why do you keep… playing these reckless games with me?” His voice is a whisper, but it carries the weight of frustration, longing, and something unspoken.
“Because I need control,” I admit, leaning close so our foreheads touch. “Because I need a thrill. And right now, the thrill is you. You, and the way you fight it, the way you try to resist me.”
His lips part slightly, a soft exhale escaping as he leans into me. I feel the tremor in his body, the flush creeping over his neck. “You… you’re insane,” he breathes.
“And you,” I murmur, brushing a hand along his arm, “love it.”
The words land, heavy and sharp, and he groans, letting his hands find my chest. He grips my shirt, tugging me flush against him. The press of his body, warm and taut, is intoxicating. Every nerve, every pulse of him against me is pure fire.
I tilt my head, letting our lips hover inches apart. His lips part, and I slide in slowly, teasing, tasting him, memorizing the heat and texture of his mouth. His hands wander down my back, fingers clutching my shirt and gripping my hips. I respond in kind, letting my hands roam his waist, pressing him closer.
The kiss deepens, fierce, hungry, and I feel the weight of desire press against me, the way his body melts into mine, despite the drunken haze. He shivers under my touch, eyes glassy, lips parted, caught somewhere between wanting and waiting.
I brush my hand up his side, along the curve of his ribs, watching him inhale sharply.
“Leander,” I murmur against his lips, letting my thumb press lightly against the sensitive skin of his hip. “Say you want me.”
He swallows, jaw tightening. “Phoenix… stop teasing me,” he mutters, voice ragged.
“Never,” I whisper, leaning in, brushing my lips along his jaw, trailing toward his neck. His pulse is rapid under my lips, and his neck flushes a deep pink. “I want to see how far we can go together.”
His hands pull off my shirt. The heat, the flush, the tension—it’s all-consuming. Alison really did a number on my boy. He’s practically tearing my clothes off.
I tilt my head, teasing his ear with a nibble, feeling him shiver violently. “You’re shaking,” I murmur, voice low. “Are you… scared?”
“No,” he groans, pushing me lightly, though he doesn’t pull away.
“Liar,” I murmur, pressing my forehead against his, passing my hand over his crotch. “Have you ever had sex with a man before?”
His breath hitches, his eyes glancing away from my heated gaze. “Y-yes.”
“Liar.” I breathe on his mouth.
His lips find mine again, desperate, clinging, sloppy with alcohol but intoxicating beyond measure. He’s trying to shut me up, and it’s working. His hands wander, tugging at the button on my jeans, tracing my chest, sliding down my sides. I deepen the kiss, letting him take the lead in small ways, letting him feel the freedom of letting go just enough to enjoy the chaos we’ve created.
And then—sharp rapping at the door.
