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She slammed back the rest of her martini, and I did the same, jumping out of the booth and grabbing her by the hand.

“Manuel, I’m leaving. Call me if there’s an emergency,” I shouted as we raced past the bar.

I didn’t even wait for him to respond. Olga was giving me the green light, and I didn’t want anything to keep me from finally kissing this woman.

We didn’t live that far from the bar, but there was a taxi letting out people right in front of Sweet Cocktails, so I pulled Olga inside, desperate to get home as quickly as possible.

I gave the guy our address, then pulled Olga under my arm, holding her close. She rested her head against my chest, one small hand on my thigh, just like she did when we were watching movies on the couch. We got home in about five minutes, and I tossed some cash at the driver before dragging Olga through the lobby and into the elevator.

The instant the elevator doors closed I turned on her, walking her back against the wall and putting my hands on her hips. Slowly I lowered my head, pressing just the ghost of a kiss on her lips. I wanted to do more, but it was a quick ride up to the sixth floor.

The door opened, and then we tumbled into the apartment, much to the displeasure of Nutella. He started hissing at me as soon as I opened the door.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Olga said.

She picked up her cat and took him down the hallway, shutting him inside the bathroom before she jogged back to me. Behind the wood, Nutella yowled in outrage.

“How drunk are you?” I asked, wanting to make sure she was able to give consent to anything that happened tonight.

“I’m Ukrainian,” she said. “We practically drink vodka in our baby bottles. It takes a lot more than three drinks to get me drunk.”

“You had four,” I reminded her.

“It takes a lot more than four drinks to get me drunk,” she amended.

“In that case, I’m going to kiss you now.” I walked her backwards until her back hit the wall behind her.

“I wish you would,” she sassed.

“Hopefully we won’t get interrupted this time,” I said.

I lifted my palms, slamming them against the wall so I caged her in, and her eyes widened. For a long moment, I just stared down at her, desperate to kiss her, but also desperate to prolong the anticipation.

Then she licked her lips, and it was game over.

Olga

Michael’s lips crashed against mine with surprising force. This was not the gentle first kiss of a friend kissing another friend. No, this was a claiming. And I was there for it. I’d had just enough alcohol to lower my inhibitions and make me forget why this was a bad idea.

I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer, and he pressed against me, pinning me between the wall and his body. I could feel his erection growing against my belly, heightening my excitement and making my heart pound faster.

Michael nipped at my lower lip, and I opened for him, meeting his thrusting tongue with my own. My nipples ached as they rubbed against the fabric of my bra, and I was pretty sure my panties were incinerated just from what we’d done so far. Michael kissed me urgently, but somehow also like he had all day. It was intoxicating.

By the time he dragged his mouth away from mine, we were both breathing heavily. Michael ran his lips down my neck, then across my collar bone, leaving a trail of little kisses that made me shiver.

I slipped my hands between us, tugging at his buttons, desperate to get some skin to skin contact. I made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt, then pulled it over his shoulders, baring his chest. He wasn’t ripped, but he was fit, with a flat stomach and muscular pecs that were covered by a thin coating of dark hair. I lowered my head, pressing a kiss over his heart.

“I want you, Michael,” I whispered.

He groaned, then tugged on my hair, shifting my face upward. He captured my lips with his again, kissing me deeply while grinding his hips against mine. He grabbed one of my legs, lifting it up to his hip, the motion tilting my hips so he could increase my pleasure. Michael was about three inches taller than me, and we fit together perfectly.

“I can’t decide what I want to do to you first,” he told me, his voice like gravel.

“We’ve got all night, but let’s go into the bedroom,” I suggested. “We’re too old to have sex against the wall.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me,” he said.

“Well, let’s take the challenge when we’re both completely sober then,” I said, even as I realized that I was assuming that this was more than a one-time thing.