The words shoot a bolt of electricity through me, and my hand closes over his hip as if he’s operating it with a remote control. “You’re fucking hot.”
“I can’t go home like this,” he begs, grasping at my belt.
So I shift my finger to his lips to quiet him. “You can. And when you get there, you can think about this. And tomorrow, you can tell me what you did about it.”
His breath hitches, sucking air past my finger over his pink and plump and wet lips. His eyes are dark, his pupils wide in a sparkling sea of gold. August’s smile widens slowly. It’s mischievous, sexy. He tilts his head ever so slightly, playing my finger across his lips, over the bow, down to the swell of his bottom lip, until the tip of his tongue finds the tip of my finger. So warm, so wet, it freezes me in a glorious shudder of delight. He closes his lips around the tip of my finger and sucks.
Fuck.
This man is pure sex, and I can’t handle him.
My dick’s full and begging for escape, begging for him. His tongue, my dick, sending vibrations through me that make my body act on autopilot. I sink my finger a little deeper into the hot dark of his beautiful mouth, and he pulls me in. The tight blanket of his tongue, the unerring eye contact, is making my knees weak. He tilts his head a little more, and takes it deeper still. I pull back slightly, but I can’t resist dipping it again. His hand wraps tighter around my belt, fingers slipping behind it, and I swear if he touches me I’m going to come on the spot.
“What’s taking so long?” Jon yells.
It’s accompanied by Amber’s slightly hushed, “Leave them alone.”
But I’ve already ripped my finger away.
August captures me at the wrist, then drops a slow kiss on each knuckle, never breaking that too heated eye contact. “Tomorrow?”
“Please.” And it may be the most embarrassing utterance of my entire existence, but it’s also the most genuine.
He’s all I want.
He’s all I’ll ever think about again.
“Okay.” He says it softly, then slips away from me, leaving me with a grey concrete wall, which I dip my head against in frustration.
Of all the mes in all the universes, why did this one have to be walking sex?
While he gathers everyone, I stay out here in the dark, waiting for my erection to go down, hoping no one will see it. It helps that Jon’s difficult about leaving, the others chiming in about how they just got here. But August, with Amber and Shashi’s help, steamrolls them, and they’re soon assembling outside the elevator.
I work my way to the back of the room, where August is, but then I feel an unfamiliar grip on my arm. There’s a tug, and my head snaps across. Shashi steps backwards, just inside my room.
It’s all a bit weird, but okay.
I step in there with her, she leans in close, and in a low voice says, “You tell August, or I will.”
The floor drops out from under me. “What?”
“All of what your maths says about how fucked we are?” She looks over at him, where he’s smiling and talking to Amber. “I have the funniest feeling you haven’t told him.”
A sea of ice and me drowning in it, sinking, consumed by bracken-green. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ding!The elevator light throws its sickly glow over the entrance.
“Don’t try to bullshit me, August. You have forty-eight hours. If you haven’t told him, then I will.”
She’s out the door, walking to the elevator like a boss, leaving my whole world crumpling.
They all file in, and August’s beautiful face is the last thing I see. “Bye, August.”
I plaster a smile on. “Bye, August.”
He takes a step backwards, and I get one last glimpse of perfection before I’m left alone in this shitty basement, shut away from him and from life, just like I deserve.
Like I’ve deserved all along.
