Instead of answering, he backs me against the wall, blocking any escape with his massive body. As if I’d ever try to get away from him. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones.
“You know I was,” he says, voice rough. “And you know exactly what you were doing.”
“Maybe I wanted to see what would happen.”
“This is what happens,” he says, and kisses me hard enough to bruise my lips.
It’s desperate and possessive and everything I’ve been fantasizing about since he told me things were too complicated last night. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming, demanding, coiling with mine.
“She put her hands on you,” he says against my lips, grinding his cock against me. “Right in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“You’re doing something about it now.”
“I had no choice,” His hands slide down to my hips, pulling me against him. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”
“Good,” I tell him. “That makes two of us.”
He kisses me again, rougher this time, like he’s trying to mark me from the inside out. I can taste the beer on his tongue, can feel the heat of his body through his clothes, and I want more. I want everything.
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” he says, but his hands are already fumbling with my belt.
“Then stop.”
“I can’t.” His voice is wrecked. “I can’t stop thinking about last night. I can’t stop wanting you.”
“Then don’t stop.”
I reach for his zipper when the door handle rattles. Both of us freeze, breathing hard, staring at each other. Panic claws at my chest.
“Occupied,” I call out, but the rattling continues.
“Hey, whoever’s in there, open up. I need to piss.”
The voice is familiar. Too familiar.
Fucking Liam Parker.
“Shit,” Zane breathes, moving away from me.
“Just a minute,” I call, trying to buy time while we both attempt to look like we weren’t just about to fuck in a bar bathroom.
But the rattling gets more insistent. I reach for the door and twist the handle, my pulse spiking at the look on Parker’s face as he takes in our rumpled clothes, our flushed faces, the way we’re both breathing like we’ve been running practice drills.
Seconds stretch into what feels like hours and nobody moves. Nobody speaks.
Then Parker steps inside and closes the door behind him, eyes wide with shock.
“Holy shit,” he mutters. “Seriously?”
“Parker,” I start to say, but he holds up a hand.
“No.” He runs a hand through his hair, looks anywhere but at us. “I came in here to piss, not to... Jesus Christ.”
The silence hangs heavy in the air. Parker’s still processing what he walked in on, and I can see the exact moment it all clicks into place.
“You two are... ” He gestures wildly, still refusing to make eye contact. “This is why you’ve been acting weird. Both of you.”
“Look, kid—” Zane begins.
