My mouth captures his midsentence. His lips are slightly moist and even fuller than I remembered. I tense and a dull ache hits hard as my heart drops a few inches in preparation of being rejected.
Much to my surprise, Gavin doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t reject me. He doesn’t spew some bull about my brother or our friendship or seeing anyone else or anything.
He only makes one sound—a soft, pained groan. His hands grip the skin just beneath my ass and he lifts me onto the counter. The dress is tight but I manage to part my thighs far enough to accommodate his broad figure between them.
My fingers press into his back, urging him closer even though it’s not exactly possible. I try to catch his tongue but he’s sweeping it deeply inside, then pulling back to suck on my lips. A muffled moan escapes my mouth and slides into his.
“You taste like whiskey, Bluebird.” He chuckles lightly, then cuts off any chance I had of verbalizing a response by slipping his fingers between my legs and into the waistband of my panties.
“I’ve come a long way since strawberry ice cream.”
A wounded sound like an animal might make tears from his chest and I feel his erection press into the tiny scrap of fabric between my thighs. “If I don’t stop right now I won’t be able to.”
“Please don’t stop.” I don’t even recognize my own voice—it’s raspy and deep and filled with desperate need. Desperate wasn’t quite what I was going for, but there it is.
Apparently desperate works for Gavin, though, because my plea fuels his enthusiasm and my panties are a mere memory in a matter of seconds.
His fingers explore my newly exposed skin before sinking into my pulsing wet heat.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he bites out when I thrust myself harder against his hand. “So fucking wet.”
“Seems you have that effect on me.” I want him so badly and wanting this much can’t be a good thing. He’ll break me, burn me to ash. Again.
His mouth against mine blanks my memory. I want to forget the many reasons why this isn’t a good idea—because it doesn’t matter how much it will hurt in the end. All that matters is now.
I’m drunk, but not from the Jack Daniel’s in Jag’s flask. I’m lust drunk on the cocktail of emotions Gavin Garrison always sends swirling around inside me.
I can feel the smile on his lips when they meet mine again. But then he groans and pulls back, and I want to scream.
“We shouldn’t do this. Not like this. Not here.”
I whimper in protest, biting his bottom lip, then nipping his top one hard enough to let him know I’m not playing around. Either he’s in or out. Literally. But the mind games are a thing of the past and I won’t be that person again. He either wants me or he doesn’t, plain and simple.
I open my eyes and stare directly into the fire flashing in his. “I won’t beg. Not this time.”
His gaze deepens and darkens simultaneously. “Bluebird . . .”
“Either fuck me or don’t, Gavin. But I won’t play this game again.”
And I won’t join the band if this is how it’s going to be. Hot and cold. On and off. Yes and no. Soaring hopes and dashed dreams.
My heart does not belong on a yo-yo string and I won’t allow it to be treated like one, no matter how much I love him.
His luscious mouth drops open slightly. I’ve caught him off guard. I raise an eyebrow while I wait for him to decide.
“You know I want you. I want this. I want us. But there’s so much I should—”
A harsh loud knock on the door interrupts whatever he was about to say.
“Band’s taking five and this is the only bathroom we’re are allowed to use. Dying out here!” Levi, Dallas’s friend and the leader of the band that’s playing the reception, calls out.
“Just a minute!” Gavin calls back.