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His eyes go over my shoulder, landing on someone behind me. He grabs my hand. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Once we’re out by the car, I have to shove him into the passenger seat, tucking his arm inside. I shut the door with a little more force than what is necessary.
“Tillie!” Madison comes running out of the house just as I’m about to open the door.
“Thanks for calling me.” I roll my eyes. “Not.”
Madison shuffles uncomfortably. “Listen, I really nee—”
“—Madison!” Bishop snaps at her from the front door.
Madison stills, and then looks at me pleadingly.
“What is it?” I probe, crossing my arms in front of myself.
She chews on her lips nervously and then plasters a fake smile on her face. “Nothing. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She turns, shoulder barging past Bishop, who is still watching me.
“Bye, Tillz.”
“Bye, B.” A flash of something falling over his face before it’s gone.
My door swings open. “Hurry up!”
I roll my eyes again, getting into the car. I crank the heat up and start driving us out of Brantley’s driveway.
“You mad?” Nate asks lazily, and I can hear the humor in his tone. Nate’s drunk voice is even more sexy than his normal voice.
“No, I’m not. Why were you fighting?”
I see his head turn away from me out of the corner of my eye. “Because I fucking hate what your eyes do to me.” He turns the radio on. I am Tillie Stuprum and I am confused as fuck with this guy’s mood swings. But slightly turned on.
Pulling into our driveway, we both get out and Nate starts doing the Connor McGregor walk as we head toward the pool house, laughing loudly when I shove him.
“You’re an idiot.”
He turns around in a flash, his face and chest pressing against mine. I stop, my flushed cheeks cloaked by the dark night. “That’s the second time you’ve called me an idiot, Tillie.”
I shove past him, annoyed with his up and down. “Probably won’t be the last, either.”
“Where’s Micaela?” he asks just as we tread up the stairs.
“Your mom texted me and told me she put her in her room.”
I yank the door open, seemingly pissed that I was dragged out of bed over him, but as soon as I swing it open, both of his hands slam it shut on either side of my head, caging me in. I can feel the heat radiating off of him from behind me.
“You act like I don’t affect you,” he whispers against the nape of my neck, the strong smell of whiskey whiffing through. “Like you don’t remember what it’s like…” His hand comes to my stomach, his fingers sprawling out. “To get fucked.” He tugs my body into him, and my ass hits between his legs.
Oh, he’s really doing this.
“Nate, you’re drunk. Go to your room.” I try to open the door again, but he won’t budge. “Nate.”
His arm snakes around my belly, and I turn in his grasp. Too close. We’re too close. His nose touches mine and his breath falls over my lips.
I look up at him. “Go to your room.”
“You don’t mean that.” He grins, his eyes crossing when they drop to my lips. The fact that he looks adorable right now is irrelevant, but it’s fact.
“I do, because you’ll wake up in the morning—”
His lips touch mine softly, not hard. There’s no eagerness to his movements, because he doesn’t need to. This is all Nate. He’s never desperate or needy, he hangs himself out as bait and dumb girls like me take it, unbeknownst about the poison that comes with that first taste. He is every girl’s wet dream, and he damn well knows it.
His lips glide over mine, and every single nerve that holds me together starts to slowly tremble.
“Stop talking, baby,” he whispers, and then softly pulls my bottom lip into his mouth.
Shit. Shit. Double fucking shit.
I can feel my resolve slowly slip away with every second that passes, and his mouth is on mine.
“Kiss me,” he whispers, the deep rumble of his chest shaking mine.
“I—” His tongue slips over mine and my legs give away.
He pulls me back up with one arm, using the other to reach around and yank the door open. He lifts me with the arm that’s around my waist and my legs instinctively fly around him.
Fuck it.
I kiss him back, my heart thrashing against my chest and my stomach flipping around like it’s been thrown in a blender. Our kiss doesn’t stop, and once we’re inside, he kicks the door closed with his foot, carrying me to the bed. He pushes me down, falling on top of me. In the back of my brain, I know this is a bad idea, when that part comes rearing to the surface, I push at his chest.
He growls at me.
“Don’t growl! I’m just saying, this isn’t a good idea. You wouldn’t want to do this if you were sober.”
