“He’s a liar.” Go to bed, I growl in my head, but somehow it doesn’t come out like I want it to. It doesn’t come out at all. I look away because I can’t stop staring at that bare bit of her chest, hungry for more. “And we need to stop talking about sex.”
“I would’ve thought your rule was that you always had to be in charge,” she whispered, and I snap my head back to her. Her words pull me closer. I can barely hear her, and I swear she drops her voice as I get within touching distance. I’m losing this battle, I realize with a start. I’ve been having this whole conversation thinking I’ve got a handle on the situation, but right now? I’m right where she wants me.
And f*ck
it all, I’m right where I want me, too.
I want her. I’m not going to let myself have her, of course, but I’m lying to us both if I pretend I want her to go to bed.
I want her to drop that dress and then come over here and climb me like a tree. I want her in my arms, hot and needy and innocent and wet…
I’m closer again. But I don’t touch her.
I’m not going to touch her.
I grasp for…something, anything. What comes out is completely wrong. It’s like I’m watching myself swallow the hook. “That goes without saying.”
“That you’d be in charge?” she asks, her voice breathy and seductive. “And that it would be good, as long as I do what I’m told?”
“You wanna play some kind of Lolita game, Ali?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know it’s even more the wrong thing to say. Way worse, really, because instead of letting myself be reeled in, I’ve yanked too hard on the rod. I wanted to stop this, and now I have, by insulting her.
She stiffens, her shoulder blades pulling tight as if she regrets giving me that slice of her bare back. The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
She glares at me. “I’m a twenty-year-old woman and it’s my birthday. I don’t know what your problem is, but that I’m young and sexy can’t be it. And I don’t fetishize myself, you ass*ole
. I won’t be shamed for hitting on you when I’m not doing anything wrong.”
I don’t have a good answer to that. But I can’t stand here and say nothing, so I offer, again, the lame truth. “We can’t happen.”
“Fine. I apologize for wanting in your pants.” When she goes to turn, it’s slow, like she doesn’t want to give me that slice of her back again.
I should accept it. I should let her go.
I shouldn’t cross the space between us and slide my hand around her arm, spinning her back against me.
I shouldn’t stare into her eyes and wonder how the hell I held out so long. Definitely shouldn’t lower my mouth to hers and kiss her.
But that’s exactly what I do.
And it’s f*ck
ing worth it.
—five—
Alison
I’m still thinking he’s going to chide me and send me to bed like a petulant child when he pulls me into his arms and his mouth comes down on mine. His hands slide into my hair and hold my head in place as he kisses me hard, then soft, then hard again when I whimper and open for him.
All I can think is, “Oh my God, he smells so good,” and then, “Wow, he tastes even better,” before my heart is racing too fast for individual thoughts to make sense.
The testiness of our…fight? Was it a fight? It was something, and it was ugly, but it’s all gone now. Poof. Because Scott’s kissing me like I’ve wanted him to for months. Months. His tongue is teasing mine, his lips are softer than I’d imagined, and so much better for it, and his hands are everywhere.
He squeezes my hips first, then my waist, and then—
I gasp into his mouth as his palm covers my breast through the loose fabric of my dress, his thumb finding my nipple with unerring confidence.
He freezes, and that just won’t do. I wind my arms around his neck and push up onto my toes, pressing my flesh into his hand at the same time, and he kisses me again, deeper this time.
Yes, yes, yes please.
His mouth is hot and tastes like chocolate. His tongue slides against mine again, deeper, faster, and with each stroke he lights something dangerous inside me. Something that, once it gets burning, I’m pretty sure is going to be unstoppable.
Light me up, I think. Light me up and let me fly, because I’m so ready for you. I’ve been a good girl for so long. All my friends did this years ago, and do it regularly. But I waited until I was sure I was ready—although maybe nothing could have prepared me for this. But I waited until I knew clearly what losing control was like.
It made me a little mad that Scott thought maybe I didn’t know what the consequences of this would be.
I probably know better than he does, but I don’t need to tell him all the filthy family secrets just to hook-up with him. Since he’s Hailey’s bodyguard, he probably already knows, anyway.
Now that prickly defensiveness is fuel on the fire inside me. He didn’t think I was ready, but now he’s kissing me, and touching me, and oh yes, I’m ready.
Against my belly, I can feel his erection. On my chest, his fingertips have found bare skin, and he’s tugging down my dress.
I’m ready, and he’s—