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Feeling his grip loosen, I reflexively reached for him, wrapping both arms around his neck.
He slid to the ground, laughing, adjusting himself so that I remained securely where I was. “You can relax now,” he said after we sat there for a minute.
Feeling heat explode in my cheeks, I dropped my hands to his shoulders and leaned back. “I thought you were going to drop me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
I peered at him quizzically, noting that he had a beauty mark beside the Venom insignia on his neck. His obsidian hair was perfectly tapered on the sides, longer strands brushed back flawlessly. It made him look sophisticated and classy.
The alcohol swimming through my bloodstream made me more and more aware of our positioning.
Warm breath fanned over my face. His perfectly plump lips hovered mere inches in front of mine. I was starting to feel flushed and had to quell the urge to rub my thighs together.
He reached for the bottle on the nightstand at the same time he wrapped an arm around my waist, and I leaned into his embrace.
This wasn’t usual for me. I didn’t do soft and pliant, but here and now it felt natural. My muddled brain couldn’t make sense of it. Maliki and I either avoided one another like the plague or engaged in a battle of who could aggravate the other faster. Sitting in his lap was…surreal.
He was something I knew to admire from afar, like a fire. He was beautiful but also lethal, and getting too close poised a hazard to your health.
I’d yet to forget what he whispered to me the night we took refuge at an old gas station.
“What are we doing?”
His response came after he took another healthy sip. “I’m not sure yet. All I know is that we’ve got a lot of shit to work through, so I want you to use me, and I’m going to use you.”
I tried to process his words, but I wasn’t sure I was hearing him correctly.
“What do you want to use me for?”
“Everything that matters.”
I didn’t need to be all the way sober for that to sink in.
“You know, you’re one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met? This isn’t funny.” I tried to get up, but he wouldn’t let me.
“You’re right, I am an asshole, but I didn’t follow you in here to play with you…not in that way.”
“You don’t even like me,” I muttered, attempting once more to push away.
My resistance had him pulling me even closer. “I don’t like ninety-nine percent of people, but you’ve always been in the one percentile.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“With words alone, I didn’t expect you to…but you’re in my lap right now, so you’re basically sitting on a throne.”
I laughed, sounding slightly hoarse from the kerosene I’d dumped down my throat. “That’s really pig-headed.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only person special enough to sit here.”
That was a new one.
I peered at him through lowered lashes, unsure what I was supposed to do with this spontaneous change in our…relationship.
Diverting my gaze to his lips, I stared for a second or two. How would they feel pressed against mine?
I discovered they were more than just something nice to look at. They were soft, smooth, and they held remnants of liquor. They pressed back with the same pressure I applied before the miniscule thread of restraint between us snapped.
Lips parted and his tongue intertwined with mine. There was a soft thud—the bottle placed back down—and then strong hands dropped to my waist, forcibly turning me so that I was straddling him.
