She closes her eyes, pushing her face into my hand as she presses her lips to my palm.
Fuck.
How can a kiss on the hand be so intimate?
I stare at her, unable to resist her for a second longer. I’ve wanted her for so fucking long, and seeing her like this, vulnerable and scared…like sheneedsme?
It does something to me.
Fuck it.
My left hand presses her close to me, and I move her face to mine, blood rushing through my ears as I drop my mouth to hers.
She tastes sweet, and I push my tongue against her lips, eager to see what else is in store for me.
Sierra takes control, tugging my hair as she loses herself in my mouth, neither of us coming up for air as we explore one another for the first time.
I’m inhaling her, inhaling the whole experience. She’s moaning against my lips, taking gasps of breath as we move our heads around, trying to get closer together.
The music fades around us, and the room fucking spins. It’s a high I’ve never experienced, but it’s one I’m already obsessed with.
It feels like hours before we break apart, only to smash our mouths back together again, our hands lacing together as I hold her to me, creating our own bubble in this shithole.
“Sierra, I got you a—oh, shit!” Kiki yells from beside us, and this time we break apart for good.
I can hardly breathe, but I know that I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“You taste of whiskey,” Sierra murmurs, her eyes locked on mine.
“Sorry.” I laugh, glancing around us. “I taste of whiskey ninety percent of the time.”
Sierra tilts her head, pushing her hair behind her ear with a goofy grin.
God, she’s pretty.
In here, she looks like an angel lost in hell, and I’m the only one who can save her.
“I want to taste of whiskey too!” Sierra pouts, ignoring Kiki completely who is staring at us both with a stupid grin.
“Then come with me.”
EIGHTEEN
SIERRA
Crane is a god.
He moves effortlessly through the crowd, and I turn to shoot Kiki a helpless look before allowing him to steal me away. Kiki is far from alone here; she knows more people than I do, that's for damn sure.
Crane is hardly surreptitious in his movements, and I feel eyes on us from every side, but I squeeze his hand, keeping my head down.
My hip is burning from his needle, but as he pushes the door open, he turns to look at me, and I'm dead.
His eyes hold so many secrets, and I want to become one of them. The golden cage he keeps them locked away in must have a key, and I'm determined to find it.
Once outside, Crane turns to me, brushing a stray hair from my eyes.
He searches my gaze, his lips full, parting as though he's going to say something.
