“Are you implying that…” I say slowly, letting the words drip from my lips like syrup. “You don’t think roommates should respect boundaries?”
His smirk wavers.
He regrets making the joke—I can see it in his eyes.
I lean in, keeping my tone light as I go on. “No seeing each other half-naked by accident or on purpose. Definitely no flirting at rooftop bars.”
Turner clears his throat. “Are those the official rules?”
“They are now.” I tilt my head. “Unless you want to renegotiate?”
His nostrils flare.
Eyes drop to my lips.
Oh yeah.He wants to renegotiate.
I suck on the rim of my empty glass. “You said endurance, right?”
His brow lifts cautiously. “Lots of it.”
“Hm.” I tap a finger against my chin. “That’s an arrogant statement to brag about. You know that, right?”
“You’re a little brat.” He huffs a laugh, shifting closer like he can’t help it. His voice dips lower, rich and rough. “Stop messing with me.”
If only he knew…
turner
. . .
The ride home was as unbearable as the ride to the bar.
Too many drinks and way too much flirting.
Not that I regret it.
Not even a little.
But now my jeans are too tight, my brain is mush, and every time I close my eyes, I see Poppy’s lips on her cocktail glass, licking sugar off the rim like she wasn’t slowly dismantling my entire nervous system.
Jesus.
I scrub a hand over my jaw as the car turns down our street, the tension in my shoulders tight enough to snap. She’s quiet beside me—leg pressed against mine, thigh warm and soft—and I swear to god, if this car hits one more pothole and bounces us an inch closer, my dick will get hard.
I’m not drunk.
Tipsy, maybe. Loosened.
Every part of me is dialed in to the fact that she smells like vanilla and sweet liquor, and I’m one polite conversation away from saying something I’ll regret in the morning.
Such as:Can I lick your pussy?
Poppy laughs under her breath at something the driver says, and I feel it in my balls. It’s a full-body awareness and my soul is leaning in for a better look.
I chance a glance sideways.
Her head’s turned toward the window, but I can see the soft line of her jaw, the soft curve of her silky hair. I remember the way she touched me at the bar, accidental sure, but my body reacted as if shocked by a taser.
