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“Wow. You really have no desire to get into my panties.”
I smiled. “As though that’s an option?”
“I’m the one who wanted to see your place. Maybe I’ve been setting you up all night.”
“If I wanted it, I’d come get it, love.”
Alison turned and faced me.
A good distance between us.
“So who is the one talking now?” I asked. “Is this really you? Is this the grieving version of yourself? Or is this the version of yourself that has to do something to impress your slut of a best friend?”
“You’re such an asshole!” Hazel cried out.
She shook her head and sort of smiled.
I stepped toward her.
Whether she liked it or not, there was a fire in her eyes.
Her own fire.
Something deep and hidden behind everything.
It called to me.
I liked it.
She wasn’t flirty and ditzy. She wasn’t in shock and awe over who I was. She didn’t ask dumb questions about hockey or try to treat me as though I was someone rich and famous.
And, yeah, maybe the drinks were the ones talking, but liquid courage never hurt anyone, right?
What the fuck are you thinking right now, Atlas?
Sometimes I had the voice of reason in the back of my head.
And I always ignored it.
I closed right in on Hazel and touched her hips.
My hands large enough to hold tight.
Covering her curvy hips in a way I knew she had never been touched before.
The look in her eyes told me that.
I dipped my mouth down to the right side of her neck.
I didn’t kiss her.
I just brushed my lips against her neck.
Then I moved the tip of my nose to the other side of her neck.
Hazel put her head back and let out a soft groan.
I kissed her neck.
