Page 18 of Thirst For Me
When she looks up into my eyes again, we stare at each other for so long, I’m not even sure what’s happening, or what’s about to happen. All I know is this woman is making my heart fucking race for the first time inyears.
I don’t even want it to stop. I could have a heart attack right now and it would be worth it, just to see her looking at me like that.
“Could we forget I said that last thing?” she says shyly. “It’s personal.”
“It’s already forgotten,” I lie.
“It’s just that I’m on arelationshiphiatus. That’s what I meant to say.”
I’m not sure that’s what she meant to say, but I’ll try to be a gentleman and not mention it.
The thing is, I’m really notthatmuch of a gentleman.
“I promise,” I tell her, my lips so close to hers, teasing, that I can practically taste the blackberry gin. “No goodnight kiss.”
She takes a deep breath, shudders. “My last relationship ended pretty recently in disaster,” she explains, “so ‘no boys for the rest of the year’ seemed like a really smart decision ... earlier today ...” She fades off as we stare into each other’s eyes.
I lean in, closing the polite space between us, and everywhere our bodies touch there’s heat, electricity.
Arousal courses through me.
I’m overcome by the total rush of being this close to her, the mere inconsequential bits of clothing between her skin and mine, how close we are to actual fucking. A zipper, a peel of fabric, a shift of hips and thighs ...
I know she can feel my erection against her hip. Stiff, unapologetic, thrumming with need. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as my cock throbs.
She lets out a soft sound of want and shifts her hips. And Iknowshe’s feeling what I’m feeling.
I have never in my life been so one hundred percent sure that sex with a woman would befucking amazing, for both of us,beforeI even kiss her.
She whispers my name. Her hand slides up the back of my neck, into my hair, her nails scraping against my skin.
My lips graze her jaw, and she shivers. “No boys, huh?” I murmur in her ear: “How about a man?”
Chapter 5
Sierra
My head ishammering.
I peel my eyes open, squinting into the crisp daylight. It lasers through the edges of the curtains, closed over the window.
As I try to roll over, try to orient myself, my skull feels like it’s in a vise and my mouth feels like it’s been vacuum-sealed in parchment.
God, my throat hurts.
And my head throbs with music. I think it’s Beyoncé.
Did I convince a bride to sing “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” with me to a crowd of strangers last night?
And was the Hottest Bartender in the Universe in that crowd?
His name is Mason, my brain provides helpfully.
I blink, trying to remember how I got fromtheretohere. Here being in a bed, snuggled under the covers, alone.
I know I’m alone, because it feels like something is missing.
Likehe’smissing.
