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He exhales, flicking his eyes down to my fingers toying with the bottom button on his Henley.

“I know I'm a guy, but…it's just one kiss.”

Dillon's nostrils flare with his deep inhale, and then he steps closer to me. “You want one kiss?”

“Please,” I whisper.

He lowers his head, looking between my eyes as he tucks a stand of hair behind my ear. I swallow thickly, reaching up on my tiptoes…

It was supposed to be a peck on the lips.

Just a peck.

Now I know what Dillon Montgomery sounds like when he loses control. It happens in a blink.

The deep sound is weaving itself into my psyche.

Just like the feel of his hands perfectly grasping my hips. The knowledge of what his lips feel like against my own. They’re the only soft thing on his body, but he doesn’t kiss softly.

I don’t either.

I climb him like a damn tree, trying to get closer and terrified of what will happen when we come up for air.

“Emery…” he says, pulling his head back but I weave my fingers into his hair, and he has to hold me up when I wrap my legs around his waist.

I think we hit every wall on our way down the hallway. Drunk and unwilling to break the connection.

He groans when I suck his lip between my own, fingers digging into my ass.

I was wrong before. This is what it feels like to be alive.

We tumble down onto his bed, and he laughs against my mouth when I squeeze my legs tighter around him, not wanting to risk him moving away from me.

He indulges my every touch. He deepens the kiss, and I can taste the beer on his tongue, but I don't care because this is all I've ever wanted.

He is all I've ever wanted. No other man has come close to making me feel the way he does. I knew kissing him would be this way, I just never thought I'd be given the chance to be proven right.

It's not until I try pulling his shirt up, desperate to feel his skin, that he ends the kiss, both of us panting softly in the darkness.

“Wait-wait-wait. Fuck, Em. Wait.” His heated forehead presses to mine, and I hear him swallow roughly. “We're drunk, Emery. We can't—”

“I don't care.”

“I do.” He rolls his forehead against mine before sighing and disentangling himself from me. I'm prepared for him to jump off the bed, make an excuse to get away. But he rolls over and pulls me with him until my head hits his chest. “Let's sleep it off, okay? We can talk in the morning.”

The last thing I remember is him pressing a kiss into my hair before the morning light wakes me.

Dillon isn't in bed next to me anymore, and one touch across the cold blanket shows he hasn't been for a while.

Still, I touch the smile on my lips and squeeze my eyes shut. Headache be damned. I kissed Dillon. And Dillon kissed me back. No amount of tequila could make me forget it.

I take a calming second to gather myself and be fucking cool before rolling out of bed and tip-toeing to his bathroom. I pee and nearly pass out when I see my reflection in the mirror.

I wash my face twice to try to get the glitter off and then use my finger to brush the nasty taste from my mouth. Wearing the same clothes as last night isn't my best look, but it's all I've got.

It takes me a minute to talk myself into leaving the bedroom, but I do.

I feel…light. Like the oxygen is carbonated, and my feet don't need solid ground. Like one look from Dill, and I'll be floating up on cloud fucking nine. I want to do it again. And again. Because he kissed me back. That has to mean something. Has to. I'm not just some random person he met at the bar. He knows me, and I don't think any of that would have happened if he didn't mean it. Right?