“Bodhi,” he whispered.
And suddenly, everything else faded.
There was no music. No sweaty bodies on the dance floor. No bandmates waiting for us.
There was just Iggy, looking up at me with glittering green eyes, cheeks flushed, glossy mouth parted.
I pulled my hand from the wall and threaded my fingers through his pink hair, drawing him closer until there was no space left, until we might as well have been one body. Our chests rose and fell in uneven sync, his warm breath ghosting over my lips.
“I hated watching another guy touch you,” I admitted quietly. “It made me furious. I wanted it to bemychest you were pressed against. I wanted your hands onmyskin.Mymouth on your neck.”
I dipped my head, brushing my nose along his heated cheek. His hands slid up my chest, fingers grazing the short hairs at the base of my neck.
“I was pretending it was you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine. “I wanted it to be you.”
We lingered there, sharing air, holding each other’s gaze.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, even as his hips nudged into mine.
“I know.”
“We can’t blame it on drugs or alcohol.”
“I know.”
His lips skimmed mine between each word, and when I licked my own, I tasted sour cherry.
“We’ll remember everything tomorrow.”
“I know.”
I tightened my grip in his hair and tipped his head back.
“So tonight,” he rasped, eyes half-lidded. “Let’s just pretend.”
Then I kissed him.
His mouth opened instantly, hungry, lip gloss sticky and sweet against mine. The cherry flavour made my mouth water, made me want to devour him whole. My tongue brushed his, and I felt his moan vibrate through me rather than hearing it.
Iggy hooked a leg around my hip.
I pulled back just enough to make him whine, the sound soft and needy, before slipping my hands beneath his thighs and lifting him. He squeaked, wrapping his legs around my waist, ankles crossing at my back.
I gripped his ass and pressed our groins together. His hard cock slid against mine.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Then he dragged my face back to his, kissing me like hemeant to erase every thought I’d ever had. We kissed until my lips burned and my head spun, until oxygen felt optional.
I didn’t know what this meant for us. Didn’t know how we’d react tomorrow when we stood face-to-face in the light of day.
But tonight, we were pretending. And I didn’t want to waste a second of it.
I rocked my hips against his, sparks shooting straight up my spine. His tongue, our movement, the way everything felt so intense without anything chemical dulling the edge—it was almost too much.
I felt high on him. Drunk on his taste. And I hadn’t needed a damn thing to get there.
“Bodhi,” he whined, still rolling his hips.
