Past our friends.
Past the door we should be heading toward.
I lead her down the narrow hallway at the back of the building. My pulse is hammering, adrenaline and desire tangling until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
The second the bathroom door deadbolt clicks into place, the bass and voices from the bar dull into a muffled thrum.
It’s just us. Her and me and this thing between us that won’t stop pulling tighter.
The lighting is dim, a red overhead bulb casting everything in shadows and heat.
I press her back against the cool tile wall, my palms caging her in. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t push me away. She wants this. Maybe just as much as I do.
My hands slide to her cheeks, thumbs brushing her jaw as I kiss her—hard and ravenous. Weeks of restraint unravel all at once.
She tastes like lime and salt and something sweeter I can’t name, but it’s fucking addicting.
Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer. I grip the backs of her thighs and lift her up onto the sink. She wraps her legs around me, grinding against the ache straining against my jeans, and I swear I forget how to breathe, dropping my forehead to hers.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” I rasp against her lips.
She looks down between us, cheeks flushed, and rolls her hips once—slow, intentional, and fucking devastating.
“Fuck,”I choke out, closing my eyes, trying to gain some semblance of control.
I trail my mouth along her jaw, down her neck, tasting the edge of temptation and the wrongness of wanting her this much. My hands slide beneath her shirt, mapping every breath, every shiver, every soft line of her.
When I reach her waistband, I pause for a single breath, giving her a chance to tell me to stop. To say she doesn’t want this.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she pulls my mouth back to hers, greedy, reckless, and desperate as her teeth catch my bottom lip.
When I murmur her name in gravely devotion, she lets out the softest sound, and I nearly drop to my knees right there to make her do it again.
Her breath catches as I tug open the button of her jeans. But I don’t stop. I let my hand slip lower, teasing her over her panties—just enough to make her gasp. Just enough to show her that I’ve been thinking about doing this for longer than I should have.
Her head falls to my shoulder as she grips the back of my neck. My fingers slide beneath the fabric and she arches into my touch, her arousal coating my hand.
“Is this all for me?” I murmur, my voice low and rough as I push farther, circling her clit with my thumb.
She shudders, clinging to me, chasing more with every desperate roll of her hips. Her fingers tangle in my hair as she moans against my shoulder, biting down to smother the sound, her breath shaky and hot against me.
My cock is throbbing, begging for release. But I can feel her getting close, so I force myself to focus on her.
She’s unraveling in my hands and I’ve never wanted anything more. It’s like I was put on this planet with the sole purpose of bringing her pleasure.
“Wesley—” My name breaks against her lips when I kiss below her ear. Her moans threaten to give us away. I don’t care if the whole bar hears. I almost want them to. So they know she’s mine—even if it’s only for now.
I slow my hand right before she tumbles over the edge. Her whimper is pure devastation. “Why are you—”
My lips brush hers. “I want you to watch.”
She blinks at me, dazed and flushed. I ease her down from the sink, keeping my hand on her waist, guiding her until her feet hit the tile.
Before she can protest, I spin her gently, pressing her into the cool porcelain, my chest flush against her back.
One hand grips her hip hard enough to bruise while the other slides lower, slipping back between her thighs.
