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He tips his chin towards the man sitting in the booth behind her. “Is that who I think it is?”
She looks over her shoulder at him and my gaze joins hers.
The man’s stare bores holes in the three of us, his body tense. I can tell he’s ready to intervene if one of us makes any type of move on her.
It takes Rogue asking his question to make me realize why I recognize who she’s with and when she turns back towards us, she confirms it with a blush.
“Yeah.”
Phoenix looks over at him as well before adding, “You’re playing with fire.”
Her eyes narrow on him. “You’re one to talk.” Her voice drops ten degrees when she talks to him, likely because of his history with Six. “I know what I’m doing. You won’t say anything, right?” She looks specifically at me when she asks the question, but I know she’s speaking to all three of us.
“No.”
She nods in thanks and walks back to her table without a word.
I down the rest of my drink, clap Rhys and Phoenix on the back and head out the door on unsteady, but reenergized feet.
???
Less than an hour later, I’m knocking on Thayer’s door.
This is strangely reminiscent of the time I was here a couple of weeks ago, except this time I’m not actively trying to bang down the door with my fists.
She opens the door wearing jeans and a turtleneck and I let myself slump forward and drape over her in a hug. It’s like my body knows it’s home and is powering down for the night, feeling safe and secure.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she says, her voice muffled by my large body as she tries to hold me up. “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.” I say, taking advantage of my position to bury my face in her neck. I inhale her like a drug addict, rubbing my nose up and down her neck as if imprinting her scent on me.
She pushes me off gently, resting me back against the opposing hallway wall. I give a displeased groan but let myself be moved, ultimately reclining my body and head against the wall as I look down at her through heavy lidded eyes.
She gives me a discerning look before a smile curls her lips. “Are you drunk?”
“Little bit.”
“Why?”
I shrug noncommittally, running a hand through my hair. “Alcohol makes me dream that you forgive me.” I rub over my face and down my chest, subconsciously placing it over my heart as if to protect it. “But then I wake up and you aren’t in my arms like I’d dreamed.”
“So the come down is brutal?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because for the length of a dream, I get to spend time with you.” I cross the short length of the hallway to where she’s standing back against the opposing wall and bring my right palm softly down next to her head. I lean over her, bending to bring my face closer to hers as my mouth hovers over her ear. “Even if it’s in my head, even if it’s nothing but a hallucination, for a few moments it feels real.”
A shiver moves through her body as my breath hits the shell of her ear. I lean closer, using the excuse of my drunkenness to brush my lips against hers ‘accidentally’.
Sparks fly between us at the contact, the maddening chemistry swirling around us like it always does, more potently intoxicating than the alcohol flowing through my veins.
“Don’t kiss me,” she whispers, her voice thick with lust.
I resist a pained groan. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more in my entire life. It’s torture to be mere millimeters from her lips and not be able to close the distance, to press my lips against her soft ones and claim her mouth like I have done hundreds of times.
