“Toadies?” Dorian scoffs. “Calling Vane names now, Baz? Isn’tthatcruel? And you’re lumping Sibyl into the toady class as well?”
“She’s awesome, but yes, she plays the same game.”
“And what game is that?”
“‘Let’s all flatter Dorian and never call him out on anything he does, or he might kick us out of the posse.’”
He surveys me with stormy azure eyes. “And you’re not afraid I’ll kick you out?”
“Nope. You need me.” I flash him a wide grin. “You’re stuck with me for a little while. So I’m gonna try to do you some good.”
“Oh, I know you can do me good,” he says, a sly smile curving his mouth.
I put out both hands, warding him off as he approaches. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You’d be surprised how many women—and men—have fantasies about elevator sex.” He advances until his chest presses against my palms.
Damn it. I’ve had that fantasy before. “Never appealed to me.”
“You beautiful little liar.”
His heart thunders under my palms, and its hectic pace softens my resolve. I relent, letting his body close in. His scent overwhelms me—lavender, sea salt, and smoky sage. Ribbons of tingling arousal quiver through my abdomen, rippling between my legs.
“I thought you didn’t want a quick fuck,” I whisper.
“Maybe I changed my mind.” He moves to kiss me, but I press my fingers over his soft lips.
“Promise you’ll apologize to Vane. And go with him to the audition. You and I can visit Hunting Island another day.”
“I’ll promise the first but not the second. Tomorrow is the only sunny day for the rest of the week. And I need you to see something special. Something I think will inspire you.”
I wince, hesitating. “Fine. Apologize, and promise to go to the next audition with him.”
“Done.” His fingers close around my wrist, pulling my hand from his lips, and then his mouth seals over mine.
At first, kissing him is like drinking the glow of a warm, southern summer afternoon. It’s liquid sunlight, blended with the soft hum of bees, dripping with golden honey, fragrant with the scent of fresh grass.
But then a harsh sound breaks from his throat, and the kiss changes. It’s like the frantic, heaving waves of the sea under a storm, like a torrent of fierce rain, like wind stealing away my breath.
He crushes me against the wall of the elevator, and I lace my arms around his neck, my fingers diving into his blond hair. His mouth is soft as the wings of black moths, but it’s galvanized to mine with trembling force, with a desperate craving he can barely hold back. He’s shaking against me, rigid and wild, devouring me with a ferocity that sends fireworks shooting through my blood.
Does he kiss everyone like this? No wonder they fall for him.
I kiss him back like I’ve never dared or wanted to kiss anyone. I’m fully open to him, my jaw wide, my tongue thrashing in his mouth, twining with his tongue. It’s messy and wicked and wonderful.
The elevator dings. My eyes flash open, and I see a couple hesitating by the elevator doors, staring at us.
Dorian slams a palm against the wall right next to my head and takes my mouth one more time while his hips sway hard against my body.
And then he backs away. Grabs my hand and pulls me out of the elevator while he nods to the other residents of the building. “Have a nice night.”
“You too,” replies the woman faintly.
I’m breathless, gulping air, trying to center my thoughts while arousal pulses between my legs. I force myself to remember that other things exist besides his mouth and our bodies, that we’re in a strange and dangerous situation.
When we leave the building, I glance around anxiously formoths, but none are in sight. Maybe it really was a migration, and they moved on.
“We could walk to my house,” I venture.
