"Yes, I drove you back because I didn't want you to wreck. How did you get here, by the way?" I peek outside to see if anybody is waiting for him, not happy with the prospect. As I said, I like my privacy.
“Joe dropped me off at the main road.”
"At four am?" Whoever this Joe is, he must be an excellent friend.
“At three. I walked up here from there. Didn’t think you’d appreciate any visitors.” His voice is raspy. “Plus, it helped to clear my head.”
So weirdly thoughtful of him, and before I melt at this one nice, tiny gesture toward me, I force my grouchy self out again. "Why couldn't this wait until morning?" My voice has a clear hint of annoyance, just as I hoped. His gaze meets mine: the hatred usually present is missing, his shoulders relaxed with both hands in his back pockets. “I’ve been wondering why it’s so surprisingly cozy in here,” he says, looking around.
“Because it’s my home, and I made it cozy." I shoot back, and he sighs as if he is the one who should be annoyed. Again, with his jabs at my home. It's a touchy subject for me, so he’d better back off before I fetch Bob again.
Glancing around the dimly lit area, I turn on the lights and reach around him to shut the door so bugs don't come flying in. When I start to pull away, I can feel his arm slip around my waist, and I snap my eyes up as he leans down.
I freeze, waiting on what he’ll do next. He brings his nose to my ear and sniffs at it. “Fucking strawberries.” He pushes his nose into my skin, and I shiver. Then, unexpectedly, he licks the shell of my ear and blows on it. Goosebumps rush all over my body, and I shamefully whimper.What the hell?That’s not me! I don’tmakesounds like that.
He pushes me deeper into him with his hand, and his other one goes to my chin, lifting it up as he inches away a little. Now his eyes are focused on mine.
“I’ve been trying to get rid of you every way I can, Kayla.” His Adam’s apple moves with a rough swallow. “Every fucking way. But you’re always here.” He taps his temple with his finger. “Always fuckin’ here. I need to get rid of you the only way I know how.”
“Wha—”
He doesn't let me finish before he crushes his lips on mine, far from gently. It's almost painful how he presses his mouth into mine. Almost. I like this urgency. I love it.
It's then that I feel awake and find myself kissing him back, my hand pressing against his chest, ready to push him away if he says anything to tick me off (I'm totally lying to myself here: if he opens his mouth for anything other than to devour mine, I’ll just shut him up with another kiss). But instead of pushing him away, I fist his shirt and pull him toward me, biting his lip.
The taste of him… the taste I've imagined forever, is better than I ever imagined. It's the taste of overwhelming power, of a suppressed need, and my wildest dream. Of hate and desire. Of freedom and chains.
His hot tongue dances with mine, fighting for dominance that I’m all too willing to give up.
“I need this off,” he whispers into my mouth as his fingers pull on the robe tie. The sound of his words fills my stomach with a kaleidoscope of butterflies; his calloused hands snake under the rob, settling against the bare skin of my back. He stops the kiss and moves his mouth to my cheek, peppering it with soft kisses. I never knew he could be so soft. Not with me.
“Justin?” Opening my eyes and trying to catch his gaze, I see the same emotions in his eyes as I feel in my chest right now. In this moment, he doesn’t hate me. In this moment, he’s acting on the desire he’s had for me. Just like I am. In my wildest dream, I couldn't imagine Justin being my closet admirer.
Pulling him down with my arms around his shoulders, I kiss him, not caring if I should be mad, hate him back, or smack the ever-loving crap out of him for all the hurt he caused me. Not caring about anything but this one moment. We can both be embarrassed about that later.
“Step back,” he commands, quickly pressing his lips against mine. Like a good girl I am (sometimes), I obey and start moving backward. Unsurprisingly, I find my legs pressed against my table on the way to the bedroom. Somewhere along the way, my robe was removed, leaving me in a thin cami that covers pretty much nothing. To even the field, I tug his shirt up, and he allows me to remove it. My eyes travel down the fit torso of a man who works with his hands and earns his muscles with hard work. His six-pack is an eight, in fact, and his pecs are so firm and smooth. I want to bite them. To leave my mark on all that perfection. My cheeks feel hot, and the smug look on his face says all I need to know.
“Like you didn’t stare at me first,” I huff, but my breath's taken away when he pulls me close. I can feel him. Skin to skin, his nearness causing me to swallow hard. His fingers wrap under my chin and tilt my head back, his thumb going over my lower lip, pressing it to open. “You’re so hot,” the words come out under my breath, but I know he heard it, the smirk on his lips growing.“I meant your body.” He chuckles now. “I meant the temperature of your body. You’re really hot.”
His face changes into concern. “I am?”
“You are.” I nod, and the sexual tension begins dissolving as fast as it came. Concern rises in my chest when I see his reaction to my words.
“Oh fuck.” I see a hint of… dare I sayembarrassment?
“What?” I step back as I begin feeling uncomfortable being so exposed in front of him when the moment passed.
“I gotta get home.” He slurs.
“That’s what I’ve been saying all evening long.” I grab the shirt I see on the bed and pull it over my head. The mood shifts. We missed the moment and skipped right to embarrassment.
Justin tries to walk to the entrance, but his movements have slowed. He grabs the nearest surface, a teapot on the table, and accidentally smashes it on the floor. He looks down and says, "Shit, sorry." His speech is even more troublesome, and I begin to worry for real here.
“Justin, why don’t you—" Whatever I was about to say got cut short as he crashes to the floor with a loud thud. The only thing that stopped his face from smashing is the couch that slowed his fall.
"What the hell, Justin?" I run to him and drop to my knees. I begin shaking his shoulder. "Justin, wake up! Justin!"
Yeah, he was drunk in the evening, but that wasn't a drunken stupor. He came here almost sober. Almost. Was he?He was sober, right?I didn’t just take advantage of a drunk person.Right?
