“Will
you say yes now?”
Her
lips hum across my cheek and stop at the corner of my mouth. “I’m saying it…”
So
I kiss her, and we surrender to desire we both know is reckless and forbidden.
But it’s also hungry and unstoppable. Between ragged breaths, my tongue strokes
hers, and her fingers dig into my back as mine sink into her hair. I feel her
touch everywhere, inside and out, and I’m shaking when my teeth graze her neck.
My lips trace the slant of her jaw, and the sound of her moans only stokes the
desperate fever in my bones.
Drew,
breathless, pulls back, her fingers still clawing me. “What else are you asking, Jess?”
“What
else do you want, Drew?” I whisper, but her lips just fall on mine again. We
collapse against each other, and the friction of our bodies is overwhelming. I
drown in the heightened pleasure of her touch as her needy fingers curl into my
neck and her breasts mash against my chest. We kiss with even more abandon than
before, sinking into every ounce of raw, naked lust we’ve both been
suppressing. The rough way our lips move makes mine feel bruised, and I don’t
care because the taste of her mouth is intoxicating.
The thing about lines? They stop
being dangerous the moment you cross them; they stop mattering then, too. And
instead of admitting that, you just set another limit, raise the stakes, draw
another boundary for your sins, and find a way to justify your actions. Like
how I tell myself Drew and I are just kissing.
It’s the mix of alcohol and old feelings in a hot nightclub. Nothing a little morning
sunlight won’t fix. I tell myself at least we’re not sleeping together. But the
truth is, I would have. Right here if she let me.
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