His mouth falls open, before twisting into an exaggerated scowl. And then he takes my face in his hands, and leans in.
“What are you doing? Stop it!”
Too late. Before I know it, he’s licking my cheek, lapping at my face like a dog, and apparently, I’m way too weak to stop him.
“I think I’m gonna puke.” I laugh.
Finally, he stops. I try to slip away, but he pulls me in toward him, my back pressed tightly against his chest.
“I’m enjoying this,” he singsongs.
“Just think—you could have been back home in Ohio, on a hot date with a pizza box.”
“I would’ve been crazy to miss out on this.”
He drapes his arms over mine, takes hold of my wrists, and forces me to dance. We must be getting closer to a speaker, because suddenly the music is deafening, the bass thumping in the pit of my stomach, ringing in my ears. For someone who didn’t initially want to dance, I’m doing a good job of letting go, the music guiding my step, leaning into Lane, feeling him move against my back, his breath rushing in my ear as he sings along to the chorus.
A few songs later and Lane’s tongue is trailing the length of my neck—and I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“Are you done yet?” I giggle, tilting my head to the side.
“What? Isn’t that how it’s done?”
His eyes are softer than they were earlier. Despite the electrobeats pounding through us, we’re slowing our sway, and when his lips brush against my skin, leaving feather-like kisses in their wake, I don’t push him away. A shiver runs through me, nerves and euphoria shooting through my body.
Slowly but surely, I’m losing control. Lane is getting more assertive, filling the spaces I leave for him to find, his strong fingers still wrapped around my wrists as he tightens his grip, folding my arms over my waist, locking me in place. I drift in and out of the music as he trails his tongue up my neck and captures my earlobe with his mouth, sucking teasingly. A moan slips out of me as I ride the wave of his touch. My knees are weak, and I wonder how we even got here in the first place. Without thinking, I spin around to face him, and slip my arms around his neck. His hands trace the curve of my hips, setting every inch of me on fire. The light shifts in his eyes and his pupils are entirely blown. I hardly recognize him. And for the smallest of seconds, time stands still.
Who moved in first? I have no idea. All I know is my mouth meets his, his tongue parts my lips. Nothing makes sense anymore. Before I know it, I’m pulling on his hair, whimpering against his mouth as he lets out a deep groan. I’m suddenly pressed between a fence and his body, his hot fingers trailing down my lower back to clasp my bare thighs. And I’m definitely not thinking of the revenge mission when I reach down to grab hold of Lane’s hand and slide it up beneath my skirt.
Somewhere between his mouth and mine, there’s a whimper vibrating as he kneads my ass. Everything else vanishes—my focus is pinned to the ache pulsing low in my belly. My body arches, searching for Lane’s, pressing deeper into him, and he meets every roll of my hips with his, our bodies writhing to the same beat, like this is the most natural thing in the world. His hand moves between my legs, and the music is throbbing between us. I want to form words to beg Lane to go further, but the adrenaline only lets out broken, stuttered syllables.
“Lois?”
Somewhere in the distance, I think I recognize one of my brothers’ voices, but I’m too far gone to reply. I don’t want this moment to end.
“Lane?”
That same voice again.
Lane tears himself away from my lips and looks around as I take a ragged breath in, flooding my brain with oxygen. And that’s when I come crashing back down to earth.
“Here they are! You owe me twenty bucks, Jaja,” Jeff says calmly.
My eyes widen in horror. Jeff and Jarrow are right there beside us, totally unfazed by the sight of their sister pinned against a wall with her skirt around her waist.
“Shit! You’re a pain in the ass, Lois. Couldn’t you hold out another two days?”
Jarrow sighs and flips open his wallet, stuffing a twenty into Jeff’s hand.
What is going on here? I’m tripping. That must be it. Someone has slipped something in my drink.
I swat Lane’s hands away and tug at my skirt. “It’s not what you think, we were just—”
“Chill, sis. We like Lane—no judgment here.”
“Give me five, bro-in-law!” Jarrow raises a hand.
Lane doesn’t respond. Instead, he places his hands on either side of my head, resting against the fence, his chin grazing my forehead, so close I feel him panting against my skin. A full-body shiver runs through me.Oh God. What the hell have we done? Everything I felt earlier is being washed away by a riptide of anxiety, and I say the only thing I can think of right now.
