“Fuck me, Gannon.”
She pulls my face forward, burying it in her cleavage. She smells sweet, and the skin is soft and damp. Her tits slide along my face as she moves her body against mine. The heat of her pussy blazes against my dick, and I want so badly to reach beneath her dress and feel how soaked she is for me.
“No one will know,” she says, rocking back and forth. “I just need to feel you inside me.”
I grit my teeth and dig deep—deeper than I’ve ever had to search for restraint. The control I pride myself upon is slipping fast. But instead of panicking, I want to let it go. I want to give in.
I want to give in to her.
“Hey, quit it,” I say, squeezing her waist and holding her steady. She squirms in my hands. “Stop.”
She pulls back with her mouth hanging open. “Why?”
I can’t remember. I suck a breath in through my teeth and focus on not coming in my pants. If she moves again, I’m going to explode.
“You’ve been drinking,” I say, my throat pinched.
“So?”
“So I’m not fucking you like this.”
“Then letmefuckyou.”
I lift her up and set her beside me. Then I stand while I still can.
“Where is your kitchen?” I ask, running a hand over my jaw.
“I fucking hate you.”
“Excellent. Kitchen?”
She points toward the archway and glares at me.
I exhale, rolling my eyes—mostly at myself. I just let things get beyond messy, and I have no idea how to fix it … or if I can fix it. This isn’t a situation that will go neatly back into a box.
It takes a moment to find the light switch, but once I do, I find the kitchen is neat and tidy. Luckily, it’s well organized, too. The first cupboard I choose has glasses.
I toss some ice into the glass and fill it with water before chugging the whole damn thing. My body is so hot that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to cool it down. It’ll be impossible until I’m far away from Carys.
Minutes pass and she doesn’t follow me. I wait a while, giving us space to get ourselves together. To think logically. To not be impulsive.
By the time I return to Carys, she’s curled up on the couch and asleep.
I cover her with a blanket from the back of a chair in the corner. She’s so beautiful, so peaceful—probably because she isn’t talking.
The thought makes me grin.
I glance around the room, trying to decide what to do. Do I just leave her here? What if she wakes up sick? What if someone breaks in, and she’s too out of it to protect herself?
I don’t even know how to lock up behind me.
Why am I even in this situation?
Because I’m a motherfucking fool. That’s why.
My exhale is harsh as I sit on the loveseat by the fireplace. I grab a book off the coffee table and get comfortable.
It’s going to be a long damn night.