Page 295 of A Taste of Vanilla

His eyes flash.

Oh, I may be in danger.

Oliver appears in front of us again, his gaze dropping briefly to where Warren’s hand disappears.

“No.”

I blink. “No, what?”

“No to whatever this energy is.”

“I’m drinking his whiskey.”

Warren stands quickly, the warmth of his hand leaving my skin feeling naked. He drops cash on the bar. “We’re leaving.”

The words move through me like a match dropped in gasoline.

Marley meets us before we can turn.

She looks at me for a moment before her gaze moves to her brother. Her lip curls. “Okay gross. I’m letting this happen, but I have one rule. I do not need to hear any more about it, got it?”

My heart is in my throat. “Totally. No more.”

“Good. Go be happy. Text me if you need anything, but please don’t scar me for life.”

I grab Warren’s hand before anyone else can say anything weird, and we head through the side door, into the alley, and around back.

By the time we reach my apartment door, the teasing has burned down into something darker. Quieter. My key sticks in the lock, and Warren stands behind me with one hand braced on the doorframe, his body close enough that I feel the heat through the dress.

“Need help?” he asks.

“No.”

The key sticks again.

His mouth lowers to my ear. “Are you sure?”

“I swear to God, if you’re making a key-in-the-hole joke?—”

“I would never.”

His breath tickles the back of my neck. “Warren, I need you to stop breathing like that,” I warn as the key wobbles.

“I’m breathing normally. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It feels particularly slutty.”

His forehead drops gently to the back of my head. “I have no response to that.”

“Growth.”

The lock finally turns, and I push the door open and step inside. Before I can move far, Warren catches my wrist and turns me back to him.

I barely have time to inhale before he closes the door behind us and presses me against it.

The stairway is dark except for the moonlight shining through my windows upstairs.

One hand is on my waist, the other at my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lower lip slow enough that my mouth opens around the touch.