Passed out on the floor and damn near checked out.
Jesus. I never gave my drinking habits much thought all these years. Getting drunk at parties is normal for me. Then again, this getting drunk alone at home is recent, and I hope I can get out of it. I have to.
I will.
Meanwhile, I run my fingers over what’s left of my Mohawk, the short blue strands flopping on my forehead. The shaved sides of my head are now covered in dark stubble. It feels so weird. I grab my gel from the bathroom shelf and struggle to style the middle strip so that it stands up. It’s a sort of fauxhawk.
Fucking ridiculous.
My hands shake. I brace myself on the sink as the room tilts a little. I have circles under my eyes so black I look as if someone punched me. I’m thinner, and the bones of my face stick out.
Hell. I’m not vain, I tell myself again. It’s just that… Dakota is here, in the other room, and I look like shit. A guy is entitled to feeling a bit sorry for himself when he wants to look good for his girl but instead looks like roadkill, doesn’t he?
Emma would smack my arm and tell me to get over myself.
Emma. The memory of her death hits me so hard I double over. There are moments I forget she’s dead. How can I forget something like that even for a second?
“Zane?” Dakota pads into the bathroom behind me. “Are you okay?”
Her arms slip around my waist, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Okay.”
“Come on.” She straightens and tugs on my arm. “Food is ready.”
“Not hungry.”
“You will be when you smell this.”
I grin in spite of myself. In spite of Emma’s memory. “Another recipe from your great-great-aunt or something?”
“Yeah. Aunt Carolina’s recipe.”
I frown. We’re going to visit her aunt tomorrow at the hospital. I know Dakota is sad, that she loves her aunt a lot. “You said she’s an adventurous woman.”
“That what got you worried?” She winks at me.
I shrug. “Maybe a little.”
That’s a lie. Whatever Dakota cooks is delicious. All those aunts are pure geniuses. Not that I’m picky with food. If I was, I’d have starved since an early age at the foster homes and group homes. Sometimes the only food for weeks on end was stale bread and moldy cheese or old pizza. When I was on the streets, it was greasy burgers, and fries and other things I don’t even wanna think about.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate something good.
Take my childhood, for instance. It was fucked-up. Everyone I trusted screwed me over, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell how amazing Dakota is.
How good she is for me.
So I let her draw me to the table and push me into a chair, then watch as she serves the food into two chipped bowls and nukes them in the microwave. When she turns to place a spoon and a fork in front of me, I put my hand over hers on the table.
“Thank you,” I say.
“What for?” She smiles, and I want to kiss her so bad. My body has been kinda dead to the world since I returned from the hospital, but now it perks up, taking new interest in the proceedings.
“Thank you for bringing me back.” I draw a long breath, because saying these things ain’t easy. “For sticking with me when I freaked out or drank too much, or…” I wince. “Or when I asked you to do things you weren’t comfortable with.”
“Like?”
I open my mouth, close it. Seriously? I need to spell it out? “Like doing you against the wall and not letting you hold me.”
She licks her lips, leans in closer. “I said I trust you. And once I got over my own fears, I have to tell you…” She brushes her mouth over my ear, making me shudder. “That was hot.”
“Come here.” I drag her onto my lap and bite down a groan as her sweet ass settles over my hard-on. “That was hot, huh?” Shit, she’s killing me with her admission. Makes me feel what I wanted wasn’t so bad, after all. Wasn’t so weird. “Also thank you for helping me break through the stupid shit in my head.”
“Stupid shit?” She arches a fine dark brow and straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Yeah.” I fight the jerk-knee reaction I get when her hands settle over my burn scars. “The shit that wouldn’t let me kiss you, hold you like this, and see your face as we get down and dirty.”
“Dirty,” she whispers and presses her breasts to my chest, completely derailing my thoughts. “I like that, too.”
Fuck, I want her. Her scent, her softness, her voice, her mouth, her warmth… Want her so bad. It’s not just my dick, hard and aching. My whole body moves toward her, needing her touch.
Bending forward, I crush our mouths together, thrust my tongue between her lips and almost come on the spot from her taste. She tangles her tongue with mine, distracting me from the instinctive panic flash that jerks my body when her hands knead my nape.
Don’t sink into the past. This is Dakota, holding me, kissing me. Rolling her hips, grinding herself on my hard-on.
Oh hell, yeah. My body isn’t up for much yet, but this… this feels awesome. I need…
She breaks the kiss and lifts her skirt. Christ, she’s naked underneath. My mouth goes dry.
“Guest rules,” she whispers and winks. “Want to do this my way today?”
I should tell her she’s not a guest anymore, that this is her home. That I’m still not one hundred percent, and I don’t know how far I can go.
My mouth opens and closes, but no words come. My balls throb just from looking at her parted folds as she straddles my lap. Smooth. Glistening with moisture.
“Touch me,” she whispers, and fuck yeah, I can do that. I slide my hand down her side, over her smooth thigh and push a finger inside her. She moans as she clenches around me, and I’m panting with need. A wet spot is spreading on my crotch, and my cock twitches when she moans again.
“Need to feel you inside me,” she breathes and puts a hand on my wrist, tugging until I pull my finger out of her. The scent of her arousal hits me, and I struggle to keep from coming.
“Condom,” I whisper. No idea where I have them. My brain isn’t getting enough blood to function, because it’s all flowing to my throbbing dick.
“I’m on the pill,” she says. “Just come inside me, Zane. Please.”
No condom. Skin-to-skin.
My brain finally catches up, and I reach down to unzip my pants. She beats me to it, undoing the fly and pushing them down my hips, together with my briefs. I almost weep with relief as my cock springs out, flushed, wet and so goddamn ready.
“Trust me?” she asks, reaching down to touch me, and precum leaks from the slit on the head of my cock, running down the sides. I gasp for breath as I nod.
Her way. What does that mean?
“I’ll need to hold on to you,” she says. “To put my arms around your neck.”
I swallow. When we kissed I was okay, but what if I freak out this time?