She chews on her lips, again not smudging that damn red lipstick even a bit, and finally says, “I was wrong about you, Kenneth.”
“How so?” I ask curiously.
“You don’t have a hero complex.”
I smirk at her declaration—wasn’t this exactly what I was trying to explain to her? I’m about to remind her about that, but she’s not done talking.
“You actually are a hero.”
I choke on the words that were about to come out of my mouth while she inches herself closer and presses her cheek between my pecs. I let my arms roam free and pull her tighter into my embrace. We’re moving in slow motion, which is totally opposite from the crazy beat currently playing. And while everyone around us is jumping and waving their hands, we’re slowly swaying from side to side, locked in our own comfortable world.
Her ear is right next to my heart, and I bet she can hear my erratic heartbeat. And it’s not only because it’s responding to the wild beat. It’s responding to her. To her body pressing into mine. To her even breathing next to my chest. To her smell.
I look up, cursing the situation and her for becoming my weakness and the catalyst that is slowly changing me. I give up on fighting it and drop my head down, burying my nose into her hair. She smells like secrets, addiction, and madness. She smells like a woman.
Josie moves her hands under my arms and to my lower back, where she pushes her fingers under my belt and finally relaxes. I feel her whole body giving in as I feel her weight in my arms. I like it. I like the feel of it. I like holding a woman just because it feels good and not only because it will lead to sweaty bodies tangled in the sheets.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
KENNETH
We spend a long time like that, just holding each other. Onto each other. I like having her in my arms and judging by the way her body relaxes and leans into me, she enjoys it too.
“I’mhmmmm,” she mumbles something incoherent into my chest, and I pull away a bit.
“What?”
“I’m hungry.” She looks so annoyed it almost makes me laugh.
“We can go grab a bite if you want. Something must be open still.”
She mumbles something else.
“What?”
She mumbles again, but I don’t understand, so I repeat, “What?”
“I’m also horny! When you’re holding me with all your big muscles and all that,” she yells louder into my face so I can hear.
And I do. Hear, I mean. Swallowing a nervous lump in my throat, I look around to make sure no one else heard her. False alarm since everyone around us is busy grinding onto each other or getting lost in the music.
“And all of that,” she steps away from my embrace and waves her red-tipped finger around my torso, “doesn’t help the situation.”
“What doesn’t help?” I narrow my eyes.
“You know, your huge body and super strong arms,” she replies, rolling her eyes, and I can barely choke back the laughter. She’s probably only leaning on me because she’s drunk. “Holding me sotenderly.” She says the word as if it personally offends her. “All that doesn’t help, ya know.”
“I know,” I grit through my teeth and grab her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” she asks loudly but doesn’t struggle against my hold.
“We’ll grab a bite and get you some water.” I have to keep leaning down to her ear due to our height difference, even with her heels, so she can hear me. But I don’t complain because I like her smell. I like how her body shivers when I accidentally graze her skin with my lips when I lean too close.
“Alright.” She shrugs and spreads her fingers to lace them with mine.
My heart skips a beat, but the moment I realize how much she trusts me, my determination to get her out of here settles in. Determination to make sure no one touches her tonight while she’s intoxicated. Including me. No matter how much I want to.
No one touches her ever. Period.
