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Groaning, I cover my face with my hands. “Oh my God, don't remind me. I was such a spaz.”
“No. It was cute the way you were all demanding.”
My thumb and index finger pinch the bridge of my nose. “I was crushing on you so hard I made a fool out of myself.”
The words leave my mouth without me even thinking about what I'm saying. It isn't until his laughter stops that I realize exactly what I just confessed to. My chest tightens and the air feels thin as I try to breathe. Fuck.
“Okay, you weren't supposed to hear that.”
He looks down at his lap and fiddles with a rip in his jeans. “I had no idea.”
Can the world just swallow me whole? Ugh. “You weren't supposed to. Here's an idea. How about we rewind to three minutes ago and pretend that never came out of my mouth? I like that plan.”
As if the tension couldn't be any thicker, he says nothing and just keeps his gaze locked on his pants. For a second, I think I see a hint of a smile, but that could just be wishful thinking. When I can't handle it anymore, I go to get up.
“I should probably go find Kennedy,” I murmur.
I'm halfway to the door when a hand on my wrist stops me and spins me back around. In one swift move, I'm pulled directly into Zayn's arms. I steady myself with a hand on his chest and look up at him. The fire in his eyes is like nothing I've ever seen. There's torment behind them. The kind that keeps someone up at night, but they hide it for the sake of others. The kind I want to learn like my favorite book.
He moves us closer to the door and swings it closed before pushing me up against it. His hand gently rests on my cheek, with his thumb caressing my face. I'm stuck in a trance as he bends down and finally presses his lips to mine.
Kissing Zayn Bronsyn is something I've dreamt about for years, since the day he showed up at our house lookin
g like every parent's worst nightmare. Actually doing it, however, is something else entirely.
His mouth moves with skill as his lip ring rubs against me. It's nothing too intense, but it's everything all the same. He slips his hand underneath my shirt and gently grips my side. Just the feeling of his touch on my skin is enough to scorch me.
I'm not sure whether it's the alcohol giving me courage, or the shock of the situation, but I reach my arms up and wrap them around his neck. I pull on his bottom lip and let my tongue play with the lip ring. He lets out a moan at the sensation, and the sound sends shockwaves through my entire body.
We blindly make our way back over to the bed, and after lying me on it, he hovers over me. My breathing is heavy as I wait in anticipation. I'd be lying if I said a part of me isn't afraid he's about to stop, and judging by the look on his face, there's a good reason for that fear.
I thread my fingers through the thick hair on the back of his head. “Whatever it is, worry about it tomorrow.”
He lets out a breath, almost like he's in disbelief, and covers his mouth with my own once again.
The sound of birds chirping outside pulls me from my deep sleep. Usually, it would sound peaceful, but right now, I wish it would shut the fuck up. My head is pounding from what I can only assume is the hangover from hell.
Memories from last night come rushing back like a movie reel, and my eyes jolt open.
Amelia.
Fuck, Amelia!
Oh God.
No part of me planned on kissing her last night. I had every intention of keeping my distance. But then, everything changed. The second I saw her wearing my shirt, how good it looked on her, I felt like I couldn't fucking breathe. It took everything in me not to react.
I should've insisted we go back down to the party. At least when people are around, I'm able to control myself. But the way she asked if we could stay for a little bit, I didn't stand a chance at denying her.
Hearing her loose-lipped confession was a shock to my system. Sure, it had crossed my mind, especially the other day when she couldn't seem to answer me without stuttering, but I thought I was just letting my imagination get the best of me. I never considered the fact that maybe I was right.
Watching her go to leave, my body reacted before my brain even had a chance to remind me of all the very valid reasons I should stay far away. Like how Easton would rip my head off. Or how she deserves a million times better than me. All I knew was that I couldn't hold back. I needed her like a fucking drug.
It's no secret that we were both drunk, and I was more than slightly high, but I remember everything perfectly. The way her body felt under my own. The sounds she made as I slipped my hand inside her jeans. The look on her face when she came around my finger. My cock starts to harden again just at the memory.
I sit up and rub my hands over my face. At least I stopped myself before I slept with her. We rutted against each other enough to give me perpetual blue-balls, and I fingered her into sexual oblivion, but then we stopped. She went to go check on Kennedy, and I smoked another joint then went to bed.
Still, regardless of how right it felt, it's wrong. So fucking wrong.
