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I took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door and walked out, my head held high. As I strutted across the room, I could feel his eyes on me, and a shiver raced down my spine. Turning around, I raised my eyebrows as I held his gaze. He didn’t move, nor did he falter. He just kept staring.
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” I snapped, clutching the towel closer to my body.
He stood up, his eyes burning into mine. “You’re walking around in a fucking towel, and you need to ask me that?” he snorted. His jaw twitched as his gaze slowly and deliberately ran over my body.
I gripped the towel a little tighter against me. “Me?” I said with a laugh.
Was he serious? Sure, I’d purposely pushed his buttons, and sure, that wasn’t my most mature moment, but he’d shut me down, not the other way around. If anyone was messing with the other here, it was him.
He stepped forward until his body was almost pressing against mine. He was so close I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I swallowed, eyeing him suspiciously. What was he up to now? Drunk and frustrated was not a good combination.
“How badly do you want to kiss me right now?” he whispered, his warm breath touching my neck. I gasped as his tongue curled around my earlobe, sucking…nibbling….
Oh God.
My hands shook as I closed my eyes. I was frozen, unable to move, every touch electric. His hands moved up my thighs, wrapping around my hips. I gasped as my towel fell away when he lifted me onto his hips, his hands firmly gripping the backs of my thighs.
“You’re so cute when you play hard to get,” he murmured, kissing my neck, his erection pressing against me. The faint smell of whiskey hit me again, and something inside me snapped. I wrangled out of his hold.
“And you’re drunk,” I leaned down and grabbed my towel, covering myself up. “Exactly how many shots did you have?”
He shrugged, his mouth nipping at my neck. “I’m not drunk, Micah. I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m done with the games.”
“Okay, but it took you half a bottle of whiskey to realize this?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
He was right—I did want to kiss him again. With every fiber of my being, I wanted to feel his body against mine, but there was too much at stake. I had too much to lose for him to decide in a drunken haze that he wanted me, and then change his mind again in the morning.
His hand met the bare skin of my thigh. I groaned softly as his fingers began to ride up over the curve of my backside.
“What’s the matter?” he smirked. “You don’t want me to do this?”
I exhaled sharply as his tongue ran over my neck.
Why was he making it so damn hard for me to resist?
“Come talk to me when you’re sober,” I said firmly, removing his hands from me.
My body screamed at me, begging for more of his touch. I couldn’t deny how badly I wanted him.
He groaned but relented, a smile playing on his lips. “You think I’m going to feel differently tomorrow?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
I shot him a look. Did I really need to answer that? He’d been hot and cold all week: one minute he didn’t care about anything other than being with me, and the next he was all business.
“‘Night, Sax,” I said with a tight smile. I flipped off the light on my side of the room and walked over to my bed. All this teasing was frustrating the hell out of me.
In the darkness, I pulled on a tank top and my pajama shorts and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up over me. Even though it was the middle of winter, my body was scorching hot—a si
de effect of being so close to him . . . so close to doing what I’d so desperately wanted to do . . .
I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his breathing. My hand crept underneath the soft cotton sheet, my fingers softly tickling my breasts. I could hear his heavy breathing in the darkness.
He’s so close, it’s almost like he’s in here with me.
I sighed, imagining that it was his fingers exploring me. When he’d kissed me, my body responded with more intensity than I’d ever felt. I’d been with boys in the past, but nothing even came close to the way I felt around him. Because he wasn’t like the boys I knew. He was a man.
He swallowed loudly. The thought of him listening to me touching myself was an incredible turn-on. Was it making him hard? Were his fingers curled around his hard cock?
I breathed out as my fingers slipped inside the top of my pajama shorts. I was so wet, my finger slid inside with ease. I listened to the sound of him breathing, imagining it was his fingers inside of me. I could almost feel his breath on my neck. A moan escaped me and my heart began to pound. Had he heard that? Oh God, I was too far in to stop now. Burying my face under my pillow, I parted my legs a little more. My fingers moved inside me faster and with more urgency as my body began to brace itself.
