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I sat up, ignored the violent spinning in my skull, and turned to face her. I leaned my head against the back of the sofa to stop the spinning, my nose inches from her throat.
“To be clear,” I said quietly, leaning closer, my eyes dropping to her lips. “I wasn’t drunk last night.”
“You seemed pretty drunk to me,” she breathed, her spine ramrod straight. I leaned in closer, slowly, giving her time to turn away or tell me to stop. “How else would you explain the black out sleep?”
I breathed a quiet laugh, too nervous to shatter the tension growing between us. My heartbeat rammed against my ear drums, and my entire body pulsed with the need to be closer.
So I waited for her to move away.
But she didn’t.
The rush of relief that cascaded through my unsteady limbs nearly knocked me to the ground. But it was Frankie, closing that fragile distance between us, who sent me sprawling.
Her lips pressed to mine, tentative, soft, as if she was ready to bolt at any second. I was lost to the plushness of her lips, the heat of her breath and the push and pull that drove every rational thought out the window.
“I was sober enough,” I mumbled, my words muffled by her urgent lips. “To know where to find you.”
She hummed against me.
“No smart little retort?” I teased, too caught up in the heat burning between my thighs to think of much else. “No ‘fuck you, Hayden’ today?”
“I think you were drunk.” She snickered, the tip of her tongue flicking out to meet mine.
“Yeah?” I whispered, unable to keep the smile off my face. I wanted more of her. “How do you figure?”
“You talk a lot when you’re sober.”
“Smart ass.”
I threaded my fingers through hers to keep them from fidgeting and pulled her onto my lap. I swallowed up the tiny gasp that slipped from her lips, licking along her bottom lip with a deep, satisfied hum.
Fuck, she tasted like honey.
My heart thrashed against the inside of my ribcage, matching her heart for every frantic beat, until they fell in sync.
A single heartbeat between the two of us.
“I really want to fuck you,” I murmured, our frenzied breaths the only sound in the silent living room. It hadn’t escaped me that we’d fallen asleep on the couch, and her back must have been aching. “Can I? Please?”
She loosed a shaky, desperate breath and nodded. Something white-hot and low in my gut drove my mouth back to hers, needing to hear her, needing to hear hersayit.
“Tell me,” I breathed, hands digging into the softness of her curves.
She pressed down into me, into the friction I readily offered, the heat of her core mouth-watering inches from mine. “Please,” was all she said.
It was all I needed.
I maneuvered her body as gently as I could, laying her back against the expensive leather of the sofa. With no small amount of shame, I secretly thanked whatever inspired her to wear the flimsy sundress that folded around the tops of her bare thighs.
I didn’t stop kissing her; I was convinced that if I stopped, I’d die. I needed the timid little bites, the tentative, almost nervous way she licked into my mouth. I palmed the soft skin of her thighs, trying to remember every curve and tiny bump but I was lost, so lost in the taste of her tongue.
Of thefinallyof it all.
Chapter twenty-two
The Afterglow
Hayden
