Page 66 of Don't Think

Pressing my lips together, I swing the door open and head straight for the lift, my heart pounding a mile a minute the entire way.

I rub my hands together, squeezing tightly to relieve the pressure and step inside. The doors close slowly, and I listen tothe machinery hum and clank. With how full my head already feels, it’s almost deafening as it begins its descent to the lobby.

When the doors finally open, the bar right across the hall is lit up in that soft, blue glow from the overhead signs.

I step out… and then freeze.

Am Ireallyabout to do this?

I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s never even crossed my mind.

How does someone even propose something like this without sounding like a pervert? But maybe she’s thinking about the same things that I am and is too afraid to mention it. The second I had a taste of her, and the way she moaned into my mouth though? It planted itself deeper into my brain.

If I thought I wanted her before, it’s nothing compared to afterthat.

Now I don’t justwantmore—Ineedmore.

Thankfully, the bar isn’t overly crowded. There are only about four people sitting along the far wall. Which leaves Allie and me with plenty of space to talk without the risk of someone trying to listen in and offer to join us.

The thought alone sends a shiver to run down my spine.

Then the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I reach up to smooth them down. That’s when Allie slides onto the stool next to me, her hands resting lightly on the bar. She gives me a small, nervous smile, her eyes bouncing around the room. Probably thinking the same thing I was when I walked in.

Swingers and all.

She sits there with her hair slightly messy but still just as beautiful as ever. She was blessed with the kind of beauty thatdoesn’t even require true effort, like she could have her hair tied in a bun, chip stains lining her mouth, and I’d still have to fight the urge not to press my lips to hers.

“Do you want to order a drink?” I ask her quietly, unable to take my eyes off her face.

She shakes her head and laughs softly. “No, thank you. I swore off alcohol this morning after what happened last night.”

I spin on my stool, leaning my elbow on the bar. “Whatdoyou remember from last night?”

I sure remember it crystal clear. Her shimmying out of her dress, the taste of tequila on her lips, and the way she moaned low into my mouth…

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t think about that right this second.

She slowly turns toward me, her eyes still avoiding mine as a beautiful tinge of pink colors her cheeks.

“I remember kissing you”—she glances down—“and…likingit, but that’s really it. The rest kind of blurs together.”

My chest tightens, the anxiety of just saying what I need to say gnawing at me. It’s always been easier to stay quiet and retreat into myself, but I can’t. Not now.

Grow a pair and just say it.

“So, you don’t remember me telling you that if youweren’tdrunk, I wouldn’t have pulled away?” I ask, then a grin slowly tugs at the corner of my lips, my heart still pounding with my mind begging me to shut the fuck up. But I press on. “Or that I wanted to have you sober and clear-headed before I ripped your clothes off?”

I watch her eyes widen, and at first, I think I might have pushed too far and immediately regret how I said that. But then she slowly turns her head toward me, and our eyes lock.

“Alright, maybe I didn’t use those exact words,” I say with a chuckle. “But itiswhat I was thinking.”

She raises an eyebrow, mulling it over. “So, what does this mean exactly? We just… what? Become fuck buddies until my vacation is over?”

“Eh, I’m not a huge fan of that wording, but essentially, yeah. If that’s something you’re comfortable with, of course.”

She nods slowly, and I swear the butterflies in my chest are about to burst right through me.

“Okay,” she says softly, barely above a whisper.