Page 22 of Razor’s Redemption

"You're not assuming. I'm literally telling you I want you to kiss me."

"Daisy…"

"Razor." She says my road name like it's natural, like she's been saying it for years instead of hours. "If you don't kiss me in the next ten seconds, I'm going to kiss you instead, and I should warn you I have no idea what I'm doing because it's been six years and I'm completely out of practice."

Fuck it.

I cup her face with both hands and kiss her.

Her hands fist in my jacket, pulling me closer, and I angle my head to deepen it. She tastes like cheap wine and something sweeter underneath, something that's just her.

I slide my tongue against hers, and she whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and my cock goes from throbbing to painfully hard in about two seconds. I'm vaguely aware we're still in the middle of the bar. That people can see us. That I'm kissing her like a starving man in front of God and everyone, and I should probably have some self-control.

I don't care.

I kiss her deeper, harder, one hand sliding into her hair while the other grips her waist. She presses against me, and there's no way she doesn't feel how hard I am now. No way to hide it or pretend I'm not completely gone for her.

She doesn't pull away. Just makes another one of those sounds that's going to live in my head forever and kisses me back like she's just as gone.

Someone wolf-whistles from the bar. Someone else laughs. Daisy breaks the kiss, breathing hard, cheeks flushed dark.

"Okay," she says. "Okay, so… That was—"

"Yeah."

"We should probably…" She glances around at the people watching us with varying degrees of amusement. "Maybe not do that here."

"You want to leave?"

"I—" She stops, bites her lip. "I should probably get home. Luna has school in the morning, and I need to be there when she wakes up. But…"

"But?"

"I don't want tonight to end."

I don't either. Want to take her home with me, except I don't have a home beyond the prospect quarters, which is barely big enough for one person and definitely not private enough for what I'm thinking about. Want to take her to a hotel and spend the rest of the night learning every sound she makes, every place that makes her whimper like that.

"Night doesn't have to end yet," I say.

I pull out my wallet, drop two twenties on the table, way more than the drinks cost, but I don't give a shit, and take her hand. She follows without hesitation as I lead her through the bar and out into the November night.

The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars and those motorcycles near the entrance. The breeze cuts through my jacket, but I barely feel it. Daisy shivers, and I pull her closer, wrap my arm around her shoulders. She fits perfectly against my side, like she was made to be there.

"It's freezing," she says, but she's smiling.

"Want to go back inside?"

"No."

We walk a few steps, and then she stops, turns to face me. The streetlight catches in her hair, turns her eyes liquid gold.

She looks happy.

I cup her face again and kiss her, slower this time. Savoring it. She melts into me, and I back her up until she's against the brick wall of the bar. Her hands slide up my chest, around my neck, fingers threading into my hair.

We kiss like fucking teenagers. Like we have no responsibilities, no jobs to get to in the morning, nothing in the world except this. Her mouth is soft and eager, and every time I pull back to breathe, she chases me. Pulls me back down for more.

My cock is so hard it's actually painful, pressing against my jeans, and when she rocks her hips forward, accidentally or on purpose, I can't tell, I groan into her mouth.