Page 54 of Double Standards
“In the middle of the week?” I raise a brow. She turned down a drink with me yesterday, but here she is—shots deep, dancing with strangers, and letting them touch her like they’ve earned the right. My chest tightens, bitter and hot. Maybe she’s just avoidingme.
She shrugs casually. “Needed a break.”
“From?”
Cassie hesitates. Her gaze flicks to my hand wrapped tight around the glass, then drops even lower. Her lips part slightly, and I brace myself for the answer I already suspect. “From who, Cassie?”
Her eyes snap back to mine, wide and vulnerable, and I see it. That flicker of pain. But it disappears as fast as it came, masked by something heavier, something bolder. She leans in close, and her breath brushes my ear like a sin I want to commit all over again.
“Definitely not you,” she purrs.
Her voice hums through me, low and seductive, and then she does the unthinkable. She reaches for my drink, and wraps those perfect fingers around the glass, bringing it to her lips. I watch her sip, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on mine over the rim.
It’s sexy as hell. And it’s taking every ounce of control not to slam the glass down and drag her out of here.
She sets the drink down on the bar, smirking like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“So you’re following me now?” I tease, reclaiming the glass and grazing her hand just enough to watch her shiver.
Her eyes spark. She leans in closer, pressing her body to mine with no hesitation. “Would you like that?” she counters, her toneflirting, dangerous, playful. She’s not backing down, and whether it’s the alcohol or something else, I don’t care. I’m ready to meet her at this level.
I finish the drink in one swallow, never breaking eye contact.
Her breath catches. I see the nerves in the way she fidgets, but her arm stays draped over my shoulder, her body still curled against mine like it belongs there.
I lean in and grip her hips, thumbs brushing against the exposed skin through the cutouts of her dress. It’s hot beneath my touch, smooth and soft, and she tenses beneath it—just a little. Just enough to know she feels it, too.
My nose trails through her hair, her scent wrapping around me like a drug. I hear her gasp, soft and delicate, as my lips find the shell of her ear.
“You have no fucking idea,” I murmur. I’m already planning how to make her mine again. Pulling back, I let the cold air between us cool the heat just enough to keep my head. I step away from the bar and glance over my shoulder, throwing her a look that saysfollow me.
And she does.
At first, her steps are hesitant, but once we’re outside and the frigid night air bites at our skin, I hear her breathing pick up behind me. I spin, catching her by the waist, and pinning her gently to the wall of the alley behind the club.
Her smile is wide, mischievous, but her eyes—her eyes are hooded and full of the same aching need clawing through me. She winds her arms around my neck and pulls me down, breathless and desperate, though we haven’t even kissed yet.
My hand slides up the front of her body, from her chest to the hollow of her throat, testing the waters. The other rests on her hip, pressing her to the cold brick behind her. My knuckles scrape, but I don’t care. The burn only fuels the fire between us.
“Are you sure you want this?” I growl, my lips brushing over hers, teasing the kiss we both know is coming.
Her eyes don’t waver. They shine with the same ferocity that’s building in me. She wants this. She wantsme.
I dip my head, kissing her skin—neck, collarbone, just under her jaw—each touch leaving her breathless. Her lips part in soft moans as I claim her inch by inch.
Then she breathes in, low, impatient, and full of certainty. “Kiss me.”
I pull away suddenly, needing to see her eyes—one last chance to stop this. But she doesn’t back down.
Then our lips crash together in a tangle of heat and urgency, desperate and wild. The moment we connect, a shared groan escapes us—raw, relieved, electric. Weeks of pent-up frustration dissolve between us, and everything about this feels right. Her mouth is hot and yielding against mine, and I’m already addicted. The second her lips part, I take full advantage, sliding my tongue in and devouring her taste like it’s the only thing that matters.
She moans softly into the kiss, her approval vibrating against my mouth. I respond in kind, pressing deeper, licking and twisting my tongue around hers with hungry precision.
Faint voices drift past the mouth of the alley, but I don’t care. It’s too dark for anyone to see us, and even if they could—I wouldn’t stop.
Cassie’s leg lifts, hooking around mine, pulling me in. Her hips shift, grinding against the hardness she’s created, and I groan into her mouth. I rock forward, pinning her tighter to the wall. The movement is rough, uncoordinated, but god, it only adds to the chaos of our kiss—urgent and consuming. She doesn’t just want this; sheneedsit. Just like I do.
Our mouths slow, no longer crashing but still just as intense. It's not kissing anymore—it’s mouth-fucking, pure and simple. Wet, filthy, perfect. Our tongues glide and twist. Our lips part and collide again and again, as I swallow another sweet, shaky moan from her.
