In retrospect, the situation was still under control until she let herself press her mouth behind the corner of his jaw, gratified by the rough brush of his stubble against her lips, his sharp inhale, the way his fingers clutched at her dress. Once she was there, she couldn’t resist lightly raking her teeth over the tender skin of his throat, darting her tongue out to taste him. He tilted his head back and let out a softoh.
Thatohknocked the wind right out of her. If thatohwere a place, she’d sell her house and take up permanent residence inside it. It was so helpless, so heavy with desire. But as much as it thrilled her, it also sent her crashing back down to earth. Until that moment, she’d been partially in denial about the extent of the power she held over him. Now that she was faced with the evidence, she didn’t know what to do with it. It was too much. It was all too much.
The song drew to a close, and she dropped her hands from around Niko’s neck, pulling away abruptly. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“I—sorry,” she mumbled, before bolting down the stairs and out of the bar.
The cold air outside was a much-needed slap in the face. Merritt slumped against the brick wall, her knees giving out, gulping down as many sharp, cool breaths as her lungs could handle. She very rarely regretted quitting smoking, but at that moment, she would’ve murdered someone for a cigarette.
The front door creaked open, the voices inside growing louder. With effort, she craned her head to confirm what she already knew: it was Niko.
“Hi.” His voice came out in a rasp, his eyes in shadow from the lone bulb above the door.
“Hi.”
“You’re still here.”
“Yeah.”
He had something dark and shapeless in his hand, which he held out to her. “You forgot your bag.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
She pushed herself off the wall on still-unsteady legs and reached for it, wrapping her fingers around the strap. When she tugged on it, though, he didn’t release his grip, allowing her to pull him closer, his eyes never leaving her face.
Maybe she let go first, or maybe he did, but either way, the bag served its purpose and tumbled to the pavement, forgotten, as her hands flew up to cup his jaw. He laced his fingers through her hair to cradle the back of her scalp, resting their foreheads together, his breathing as ragged and heavy as hers.
They paused there. They could still stop now. His eyes searched her face, looking for permission, probably, as if this whole night—as if the whole fucking time they’d known each other—hadn’t been leading up to this.
Finally, she was the one who tilted her face the last few inches to press her lips to his, brief and chaste. The suggestion of a kiss. In seconds, he had her backed against the wall, nipping ather bottom lip before coaxing her mouth open for a kiss so hot and hungry that she thought she might collapse if she weren’t pinned upright by his body.
He kissed her like he knew this might be his only chance, like a starving man at a feast who’d forgotten how to pace himself. It should’ve been too much, but it wasn’t. She matched his intensity without holding back, his unchecked desire chasing hers to feverish new heights.
She moaned into his mouth, and his fingers tightened in her hair before he brought one hand down to grip her hip. She hitched her leg around him as high as her dress would allow, his hand sliding down to her thigh and jerking her even closer, making her gasp. She rolled her hips against the prominent bulge in his jeans until it was his turn to groan in response.
Last one. This is the last one,she lied to herself again and again, coming up for air just to dive back in for more. They could’ve been standing there for five minutes or three hours for all she knew.
His hands roamed her body, exploring without outright groping, though she would’ve let him do whatever he wanted as long as he kept touching her. For her part, she’d been halfway up his shirt practically since they began, skating her palms over the firm curves and ridges of his torso, her fingers memorizing the exact distribution of the soft hair scattered across his smooth, warm skin.
Niko braced a forearm against the wall and buried his face in her neck, nibbling and sucking his way down to her collarbone as she raked her fingernails across his scalp, murmuring his name over and over to prevent herself from blacking out from sensation. She realized with a start that she’d been straddling his thick thigh, grinding at an angle that had waves of pleasure building at the base of her spine.
Fuck.She knew she had it bad, but not humping-his-leg-to-completion-fully-clothed-standing-outside-a-bar bad.
She eased off his leg and took a deep, shaky breath. As if reading her mind, he pulled back and brought his forehead to hers again.
“Come home with me,” he breathed, tilting her chin up to reclaim her mouth, long and languorous this time. She let herself melt into the kiss, buying herself some time to respond.
As much as she wanted to tumble into his handmade bed and spend hours or days or weeks letting him fulfill the filthy, skillful promise of his kisses, there was still a large enough part of her that remembered she shouldn’t, though she couldn’t quite remember why.
“I can’t,” she whispered, then laced her hands around his neck and kissed him again before he had a chance to react.
He didn’t protest, but her words had the cooling effect she knew they would. He savored her, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth one last time, then took a heavy step back, resting his hands on her shoulders to steady himself before dropping them back to his sides.
He looked dazed and wild-eyed, his curls standing up in all directions after the way she’d been manhandling them. He ran his fingers through them a few times—whether to tame them or to tame himself, she couldn’t tell. Merritt trapped her own hands behind her back, pressed flat against the wall, to fight the temptation to reach for him again.
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me walk you home, either.”
She shook her head slowly, the crevices of the bricks massaging the back of her scalp. He knelt to pick up her bag, scooping up the stray coins and tampons and receipts that had spilled out of it, and handed it back to her. She was struck by a wave of déjàvu, which quickly turned to regret as he released it easily this time.
