“Eighteen,” she whispers, and this time it’s a serious kiss.
I return it the way I’ve been wanting to since she first walked into that bar. Slowly, deeply, savouring the kiss and trying to memorize every detail. The way she tastes, like champagne and birthday cake. The eager tightening of her fingers at the nape of my neck, the warmth of her body inside my jacket. The almost feral sound she makes when I curl my tongue against hers.
How fucking good her curves feel through that satiny dress. The nip of her waist, the flare of her hips. Back up to her waist, and then higher, almost to her tits. I can’t get her close enough to me, and our mouths are fused now, both of us groaning.
It’s not until the countdown starts that I realize how close we’ve gotten to midnight.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
I rest my forehead against hers, not wanting to lose the contact as the whole city chants the final seconds of my birthday.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
“Happy birthday,” Francesca whispers.
“Four! Three! Two!”
“Marry me,” I hear myself saying, but then it’s midnight and the words are drowned out by the fireworks exploding over the Strip.
“Happy New Year!”
Sparkling colors paint the sky in dazzling, crackling wonder.
She laughs and pulls me back down for another kiss. Blindly, I reach for the champagne bottle and pull it in between us, tilting it over her open mouth, and she swallows the fizzy sweetness eagerly.
“Your turn,” she says breathlessly.
Holding on to the railing, I crouch so she’s above me and open my mouth obediently. She pours champagne into it, messy and excessive, and it’s so fucking fun.
She’s wiping her eyes by the time I stand up again, she’s laughing so hard.
“I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.” She takes a deep breath and beams at me. “This light and free.”
“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “Me too.”
CHAPTER 6
FRANKIE
Logan kisses me again, and I chase the champagne on his tongue.
“Love that taste,” I whisper.
I mean more than the champagne. Kissing Logan is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I would let this man do anything to me, I swear. It’s a good thing we’re going in two different directions tomorrow, because he’s the kind of bad idea I could convince myself was something special.
This needs to just be tonight.
But because it’s just for tonight…it can be everything I’ve ever wanted.
Everything I’ve tried not to indulge in for the last ten years.
And as if he can read my mind, he gives me a heated look and grabs the bottle of champagne.“Do you want more?”
“Yes.”
He takes another swig, then grips my chin and spits the very expensive champagne into my mouth.
Spits. It.
