Chapter 7
Sydney
Or at least I tried to.
My aim was completely off. My lips collided with his cool cheek.
“Syd,” he said, and the way he spoke my name, like it was caught between a curse and a prayer, hollowed my stomach.
His hands slid up to my waist, under the hoodie and my sweater. His fingers brushed my bare skin and I felt the contact in the sharpest, most delicious way. My back arched, and it all seemed like the go ahead to me. I rolled my lower body down onto his and I sucked in a sharp breath as I felt him pressing against the softest part of me. Kyler made a deep sound in his throat, his fingers digging into my sides and setting fire to my nerves.
Kyler moved so fast. The world turned upside down, and I was suddenly on my back and he was above me, his hair falling over his forehead in a messy sweep. Hey now! I liked where this was heading.
Tiny snowflakes covered his head, glimmering in the dim street lamp. Cold snow crept under my clothing, but I barely felt it. I was on fire. I was burning up from the inside, my senses were all over the place, and it was the best feeling I’d ever had. I reached up, letting my fingers thread through his soft hair. His reaction seemed to be on instinct. He closed his eyes and tilted his cheek into the palm of my hand. Warmth blossomed in my chest.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Kyler said, catching one of my hands and holding it down in the snow, next to my head. His fingers circled my wrist in a firm grip.
I wiggled under him. “Yes, I do.”
His eyes closed again and when they reopened, they were like black pools. “You’re so drunk, Syd.”
“Nah-uh.” I managed to get a leg out from underneath his, but then he sat up, pulling me along with him. A second later, I was on my feet and the sky did a little jig. “Whoa.”
“Yeah, whoa, exactly,” he said, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it. “Let’s go home.”
“But—”
“Sydney,” he snapped, and I flinched. “You are drunk. The only thing that I’m going to let happen is me getting you home.”
There was that tone again—the kind that said “shut up and do as I say.” Usually I bucked at that, but I was shocked into listening. He took my hand again and started walking back to the house. I stumbled alongside him, confusion eating away at me along with the tequila. I didn’t understand. He was attracted to me. He’d said I was beautiful and that he’d always thought I was beautiful, and I’d felt him. Like I felt how attracted he was against me. There’d been no hiding that, but he’d rejected me.
Kyler had rejected me.
And he didn’t reject any female.
I wanted to cry—to sit down in the snow and cry. Humiliated, confused, and still more than a little horny, I forced myself to stay quiet and to keep walking. Both were equally hard. Diarrhea of the mouth was building in my throat. No good could come from that. It took forever to get to the house and by then I couldn’t feel my hands or legs and I didn’t think the snow had anything to do with that.
Kyler let go of my hand as he turned on the lights. The harsh glare hit me hard, causing the room to make like a Tilt-a-Whirl. He was right there—perfect timing too, because I was sure my legs had stopped working.
Lifting me up, he cradled me close to his chest as he started toward the stairs. “You shouldn’t have drunk so much, Syd. There was no reason for that.”
I burrowed my face into his shoulder. Being admonished for drinking too much by Kyler Quinn was the height of irony and embarrassment, but he was right. I was so drunk I could admit I was drunk.
Kyler said nothing as he carried me upstairs and to the room I was staying in. He said something when he placed me down on the bed, but the moment my head hit the pillow, I was blissfully and luckily out cold.