“Sticky?”
“I hear it’s a good place for a quickie.”
I choke in surprise. “Do you have a bathroom kink, Noah?”
“I could if you’re into that.” His usual raspy voice is deeper, huskier than normal, and I can’t be certain, but I think a faint moan escapes my lips just listening to him. Something tells me that based on the way he casually says things that make my thighs clench, the things he would say in the bedroom would be my undoing.
I fight like hell to stop it, but my mind wanders once again to my most recent favorite memory.
Without even trying, I’ve conjured up an image of Noah standing in front of me with my back pressed up against a different bathroom sink. I expect to see six-foot flames dancing and taking me down to the sticky ground when I turn around and look in the mirror, but all the heat seems to be internal.
It took half a second to imagine him here, and even less time to imagine the feel of his rough hands on my body, causing my nipples to grow tight beneath my shirt.
“What are you thinking about?”
I squeeze my legs a little tighter, attempting to dull down the throbbing between my legs.
“How I almost got off with nothing more than your thigh between my legs and your mouth on my neck.” There’s a defining silence as I lean against the wall and realize that I just said it out loud. “Ohgod.” I smack my forehead, dropping my head back to the tiled wall, desperate for the cool material to bring me back down to earth. “Please don’t laugh.”
“Laugh? Babe, I’m about to fuck my fist. Are you kidding?”
I laugh despite myself and chew the corner of my thumb, slightly excited at the new mental image and still slightly embarrassed that I admitted it out loud. “Alright, well, I better go before I say anything else that I’m going to regret.”
“Like about how you want to go on a date with me?”
Yes.“Are you asking me out, hoping I’ll be drunk enough to say yes?”
“You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts.”
“Only predators say that,” I deadpan.
I hold in my laugh simply so that I can hear his deep chuckle better. “Are you drunk, Savannah?”
I think back to the single White Claw I’ve been babysitting over the last two hours and the bottom-shelf tequila shot Chloe conned someone into buying for us when we first got here. Noah’s voice is the only thing intoxicating me right now. When I don’t answer, he speaks up.
“Just one date. If I were a betting man?—”
“Youarea betting man,” I remind him, and I can practically see his lips lifting up at corners while he shrugs a cocky shoulder.
“I bet you’ll have a good time, and I’ll do you one better: if you don’t, you can tell me to fuck off, and I’ll never bring it up again.”
A deep inhale of stale air does nothing to fill my lungs. My fingers pale on my left hand where I grip the sink. I throw out a last-ditch attempt at keeping Noah at bay.
“Did you forget who my dad is?” I mutter the words and immediately regret them. There’s a heaviness in my chest, and my vision slightly blurs at the thought of pushing him away. I open my mouth to try and backpedal, but he speaks first.
“No,” he states matter-of-factly. “But I also can’t force myself to care.”
“Noah—”
“I’m serious, Sav. I’ve never let anyone decide who I was interested in before.” There’s a pause, and his voice drops from playful and flirty to deep and serious. “And I’m interested in you.”
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. He always knows just the right things to say. “Say yes.”
I watch in the mirror as dimples form at the bottom of my cheeks and my head moves on its own accord.
“Savannah?”
“I’m nodding,” I whisper.
