In her semi-drunk state, she’s not fully aware of her surroundings or even of who I am.
I startled her when I came into the bathroom earlier, which means she had no idea who she was clinging to in The Tuna. Or who carried her up the stairs. Or who opened her apartment.
Kissing her now would be taking advantage of her.
If that’s your decision, you should probably back up now.
The voice of reason is right.
But my brain and my body are at war, and one of them is losing—big time.
Especially when Riley’s lips part ever-so-slightly and her gaze tracks down to my mouth.
Of their own volition, my gaze finds her mouth too.
Have mercy.
They’re pink and plump and perfect.
My fingers skim her cheek, tracing the curve of her face down to her chin. My thumb brushes the underside of her lip, just awhisper’s breath of a touch. But it’s enough to send my pulse raging in my ears.
Riley closes her eyes, sighing lightly.
My heart shudders in response.
My throat bobs with a swallow.
She’s so exquisite. So kind. So strong and yet so soft.
I’m drawn to that duality, to those contrasts that make up the core of who she is.
Strong yet vulnerable?—
Firm but tender?—
Equal measures of sweetheart and sharp-tongued soldier.
It’s why I’m so consumed by her.
It’s why I want to take the risk.
I brush my thumb along her chin again, dancing on the outline of her lips. That second pass has my body heating like an inferno.
Two angels poof to life on my shoulders.
Angel 1: If you give in now, if you taste her the way you want to, it’ll ruin her ability to trust you.
Angel 2: But what if she’s feeling this too?
Angel 1: Is she in her right mind to consent to that?
Angel 2: It’s not like she’s unconscious.
Angel 1: You’re supposed to be taking care of her, not pushing yourself on her.
My heart hammers and my nostrils flare as the angel on each shoulder fights for their way.
Angel 1: Do it now. Riley’s walls are down.
