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“I guess I’ve stalled long enough. It went well. I played Claude Debussy’s Clair de lune. He stood back and watched. Then he said I could be his muse.”
Kaden’s body language shifts. Even if subtly. I have his undivided attention, his long fingers tight around his glass.
“He… um… put his arm around me,” I say, looping the drawstring of my hoodie around my finger. “He… he kissed me. I told him to get off me. He claimed he could make me famous. Then I elbowed him in the ribs and took off.”
“I see.” Kaden swallows, his Adams apple thick and heavy in his throat. He sets down the glass of Jack and Coke with more force than necessary, causing a loud thud.
“Kaden…” I trail off. “Please don’t confront him. It’s over, and I’d rather forget it.”
“You should save your breath. It does nothing to change how I will respond.”
“Which is by… what? Beating him up?”
Kaden doesn’t answer me. His stone cold, borderline murderous aura emerges. An air of mystery surrounds him as he runs fingers through his chocolatey waves and then slow suspicion drips into his tone.
“I feel… off. What kind of whiskey was that?”
“Regular ol’ Jack Daniels. You barely had a glass.”
He looks to the container of cookies. “Those. What was in them?”
It hits me at once. I gasp and then leap off the bed. “These are probably some weed cookies. Sometimes one of Taviar’s friends will bake him some.”
Kaden rises to his feet and dwarfs me. “You mean to tell me you fed me cookies laced with marijuana?”
“I… I didn’t mean to. I was trying to be a good host.”
“I don’t get high. I don’t do drugs. I don’t…” he stops himself and I can see it creeping over him—his high.
A laugh bubbles out of me against my will.
The composed and refined Kaden Raskova, stoned. A bleariness develops in his dark gaze, and he threads more fingers through his hair as though desperately trying to control the sensation enveloping him.
“Don’t fight it,” I say. “Just go with it. The first high’s always an experience.”
“But you… you had a cookie too… and you’re…”
I shrug. “I’m a pothead. My tolerance is higher. It takes two cookies to get me going.”
Helaughs. Kaden Raskova releases a laugh I’ve never heard out of him—it’s borderline ridiculous. It’s almost human.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“I… I feel strange. I feel… funny.”
“That’s your high. It feels good, right?”
He develops a dazed look about him that’s so un-Kaden like, I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him.
I go for it. I toss my arms over his shoulders and kiss his jaw. “Wait ’til you fuck while you’re high.”
It’s the only hint he needs. He answers my affectionate kiss on his jawline by gripping my torso and lifting me off my feet. My legs instinctually notch at his waist and our mouths seek each other out.
From the first touch of our lips, our kiss is explosive. Deep and devouring. Kaden walks us the few steps it takes to reach my bed and then deposits me onto it. I land with a flounce before I’m consumed again—he’s diving forward to recapture my lips and scrabble at my sweatpants.
We wrestle taking off our clothes. The energy bouncing between us spurs on our hurried movements. We twist and jerk ’til he’s tossing my hoodie away and I’ve freed his dick. He reaches for my breasts and pinches my nipple.
He swallows my scream in another hot kiss. Then twists the other.
