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I watch Cassia carefully as she climbs the steps. She doesn’t stumble or trip, walking confidently up to the front door and waiting for me to unlock it.
I guide her into the kitchen first, pulling a glass out of the cabinet and filling it with water before handing it to her. Pretty sure she’ll wake up with a hangover regardless, but I tried.
“Drink this, Cassia.” She takes the glass, then asks. “How do you know my name?”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
Her smirk remains, waiting expectantly.
I take the glass back, then hold it out to her. “Drink this, Random Girl From The Bar.”
She drains it, then sets it on the counter, holding eye contact the entire time. “What’s your name?”
I huff a laugh as she steps closer, deliberately trailing her fingers down the center of my chest.
“You’re drunk and upset,” I remind her.
“Yup.” Cassia confirms.
But instead of backing away, she takes another step closer.
Our bodies brush together as her hand slips into my hair, fingers tangling in and tugging on the short strands.
“Only you could get me wet right now.” She whispers the words like they’re a secret no one else is supposed to know. To anyone else, they’d sound hot. They’d be an ego stroke.
But I hear the hidden meaning.
The first time we hooked up, I was the drunk and upset one.
As soon as she was in my lap, I couldn’t focus on anything else. So I told her that—Only you could get me hard right now—in an unplanned admission.
An acknowledgment, to her and to myself, that the past few years of denial had done nothing to curb my attraction towardher. That with other girls, it was just physical. Not mental and definitely not emotional. Maybe I didn’t even realize that was missing or was supposed to be there until her touch lit my body up like a supernova.
“What’s your name?” she repeats.
I huff a laugh that turns into a groan when she unzips my jeans and palms my cock through my boxers.
At first, I thought this was ridiculous. That’s turning to intrigue.
“If you make me come, I want to know what to scream.”
Holy shit.
Blood is rapidly rushing south as I harden beneath her touch. It’s hard to think straight, much less focus on what she’s saying. But I register enough key words to have a pretty good idea. She’s seducing me, and I’m the farthest thing from unwilling.
“WhenI make you come,” I correct.
“Lots of guys talk a big game but don’t follow through.”
I know she’s talking hypothetically. Know she’s acting out a part from stories she’s heard or movies she’s seen or books she’s read. Know this act is another distraction from an entire evening that’s been an escape from reality for her.
This is a game. A fantasy. Whatever.
But my dick rises to the challenge like it’s never been inside this girl before.
“Then you’ve been fucking the wrong guys.”
Cassia smirks. “Prove it. I already know you can talk a good game, Adams.”
