Page 16 of Butterfly Effect

She wets her lips and lowers her head to hover over mine. “And what if I’m saying yes?”

I hold her at a distance. “You’re not remotely sober. It doesn’t count if you say yes.”

“No?” Gabe backpedals three stumbling steps and clumsily kicks off her heels. One would’ve taken me out if I didn’t duck.

“No.”

“Would a drunk person be able to do this?” She drops her pants, then pulls off her shirt, revealing all that gorgeous skin,her gait going predatory as she comes back to me. Her knees press into either side of my thighs, pinning me in place.

I gulp. She’s trying to kill me.

Her hands drag mine up her bare legs and over her hips.

“I want you to touch me.Everywhere.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, resisting any movement, but she’s surprisingly strong.

“Yes.” She hisses and sways forward. “I wanna be fucked.”

“Stop it. I” —my torso reclines from her— “we can’t do that. You said it yourself.”

Her nostrils flare. A ruby-red sear blazes across her skin.

“Know what? You’re full of shit, Boehner. You don’t wanna keep me. Kurt didn’t either.” Hurt quivers her voice. “You’re no different, another egomaniac fuckboy who sweet talks his way?—”

I cradle her neck with a firm grip and pull her to my mouth so she hears me loud and clear.

“You really believe that, Gabe? Go ahead. Hope it helps you sleep at night. And you’re right, I don’t want you. Not like this. Drunk and cloudy. I want you so sober you feel every inch of me, feel how I fill you up completely.”

Her breath hitches.

“Want you to feel me hit every spot deep in that tight pussy until you can’t forget it. Just like me.”

My eyes drift down to the panties pressed against my groin. “You think I can’t feel how warm and wet you are right now? Any other time you’re sober, I’ll fuck you senseless and then fuck you some more for the road. I’ll bury my tongue inside and eat you out until you can’t come anymore. But not when you’re like this.Neverlike this.”

My hold loosens when she scrambles to stand. Tears gather in her lower lids.

“Get out.”

I sigh and pivot to leave. This woman makes me want to rip my hair out.

“Whatever happened to ‘thanks for getting my drunk ass to bed safe, Wade?’”

“Fuck you.”

I linger at the threshold. “You’re welcome.”

She slams the door shut.

It’s 2 a.m., and I’m aggravated beyond limit.

In my defense, it’s not only because Gabe’s on my mind. Jaeger, the old fart, is snoring like a freight train.

The team got rid of room sharing, but tonight’s hotel booking snafu has us paired up. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this cruel and unusual punishment, but it couldn’t possibly be less than premeditated murder.

A stack of pillows on my face muffles an irritated groan. Smacking him with one does nothing. Smothering him would be actual murder. Then, his wife would murder me out of revenge. It’d start a Titus Andronicus string of revengeful murders. We can’t have that. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Plan C.”

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