Right now, I just really want to fuck her.
We’re great together. We have fun. Sex is the natural next step for us, right? Why ignore chemistry so potent?
Solid logic all around.
Feeling quite confident about the whole thing.
When the music ends and her dance partner moves on to someone else, Jocelyn meets my eyes across the tent. The surrounding crowd continues their raucous partying, but I nod toward the exit.
She takes one step toward me. Then two. Crackling lights sizzle in my very intoxicated blood, burning through the alcohol. The band strikes up another accordion-heavy tune, but neither of us looks away. She stands before me, smiling, and something enchanting shimmers between us.
Confidence steadily grows. Warmth spreads.
“You wanna come home with me, sweetheart?” I ask.
Her hazy eyes dilate. “Yeah. Take me home.”
The Uber driver is a large bald man who remains quiet on the drive. I can’t stop looking at her. We don’t touch. Don’t speak. But my full attention is zoned in on her. Her steady breaths. The sheen of her skin. The tiny flicker of her pulse in her throat.
At my house, I open the front door, and she steps inside. She’s been here before, but I’m suddenly curious how she sees my space. The style is all sharp angles and masculine textures. Leather furniture. Dark wood floors. Metal accents.
Does she like it? Why have I never thought to ask?
In a fit of nerves, I head to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Sure.” Leaning against my large island, she sips the cabernet I pour her. Her throat works with the swallow, and my gaze follows that motion down to the notch of her collarbones.
The reservations I’ve always held close tumble to the floor and shatter. My hand lifts, and she allows me to draw a single finger down the line of her throat until it lands on the bare tattooed skin over her clavicle.
Her breath catches. Speeds.
My blood turns to fire in my veins, starting a slow exorcism of the alcohol. I trace my touch over the stars on her skin. “I’ve wondered for months what this means.”
“What makes you think it means anything?” Her voice is breathy and slurred.
My attention crawls up her neck and face until it reaches her eyes once more. “Because I know you.”
She smirks. “You do?”
I allow a slow smile to take over my face. “We spend a lot of time together. Or have you forgotten?”
“No,” she says faintly, tipping back another sip of wine. “I haven’t forgotten.”
I lean farther into her space, forcing her to raise her head to look me in the eye. “Then admit it means something.”
“It means something,” she whispers. “Take me to your room, and I’ll tell you.”
My heart slams against its cage. If I take her to my room, that’s it. The line is crossed.
I won’t be able to uncross it.
You won’t want to uncross it, whispers a small voice in my head.
But is that true? There was a reason I haven’t tried this before. What was it again?
My hand drops to her elbow, and I guide her across the house to my room. It’s large and cozy, decked out in forest greens and deep browns. Does she like it as much as I do?
“My bedroom.” I open my arms and spin in a circle. “Welcome.”
