Page 116 of Smut

I’m immediately hard.

“You can feel exactly what I think,” I nearly growl at her, stepping forward through the doorway and pulling her toward me.

“You like it!”

Ana’s voice breaks through just as I groan into Amanda’s neck, my erection pressed firm against her hip. Damn this bloody woman.

I look up and do my best not to glare at her. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

Ana smiles, holding up a glass of wine. “I’m always here.”

I pull back and give Amanda a sheepish look. “Well, you did a great job on her makeup.”

“Thank you,” Ana says. “I also did her hair. I’m trying out a new career.” She takes a gulp of her drink. When she finishes swallowing she says, “It was either hairdresser school or become an anesthesiologist.”

“That’s makes no sense,” I tell her. I glance at Amanda expectantly. “Shall we go?”

She nods quickly as Ana chirps, “Have a good time, sweet things!”

We hurry up to the car and get in. The moment her door closes, I lean in, running my hands through her hair, the thick, silky feel of her strands causing something inside me to loosen, like all the tension from earlier is finally being released.

She stares at me, her eyes searching mine in the dark, probably wondering what I’m doing.

“Is that lipstick kiss proof?” I ask quietly, focused on her hot pink mouth.

She shakes her head gently, her mouth parting slightly.

“Too bad.” I lean in closer, closing my eyes as I very gently press my lips to hers. She inhales sharply before she gives in, opening her mouth just so, just enough to gently tease the edge of her lips with my tongue.

At this point I’ve probably kissed Amanda a hundred different ways, but this kiss is different. This kiss reveres her. In this kiss she should know she’s a goddess, a fantasy priestess, a ruler of my world.

I slowly pull my lips away and press my forehead against hers while she lets out a small breathless gasp.

“What was that for?” she asks after a beat.

“For you,” I tell her before breaking apart.

I buckle up my seatbelt and start the engine, Mr. Mean roaring to life.

The party is located out at a winery in Saanichton, so we have a half an hour drive ahead of us. She’s strangely silent for most of it, staring out the window at the darkened highway.

“Will it be good to see your friends?” I ask her lamely. It sounds like small talk and I hate that, but the dynamics between us keep on changing and I can’t even keep up with my own feelings.

“Maybe,” she says, running her fingers absently down the window. “Like I said, I haven’t seen Sarah in forever.”

“And the rest of them?”

“Well, actually, I saw the rest of them the last time I saw her.”

“Which was…”

“New Year’s Eve.” Something in her voice catches.

A light goes off in my head. “You mean when you chundered on your ex during his marriage proposal?”

“That’s the night.”

I exhale loudly, gripping the steering wheel. “Wow. Okay. So tell me why we’re going to this again?”

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