Page 33 of Revolve
I shrug. “She seems like a fun time.”
Her green eyes soften, probably from the alcohol. “And how do you determine that?”
“It’s not a tangible thing; it’s her energy,” I say. “Wanna know what yours says?”
I’m not sure I can even read it half the time, but right now, it’s all heat, crackling like thin ice splintering under the weight of a skate.
“No. But you might wanna go get her before her eyes fall out of her skull.”
I cock my head. “I don’t think I will.”
“But isn’t that your thing?”
“Mything? You make it sound like I’m a player. It’s just sex—completely consensual, and fun for everyone. No strings, no awkward talks.” My eyes flick to the lip she drags between her teeth. “And definitely no feelings.”
“I’m well aware of what sex in college is like. You don’t need to defend yourself to me.”
“I’m not.” It comes out more defensive than I intended.
Without another word, she pushes off the couch, standing to fixher skirt, but she missteps and falls right back down. Almost completely in my lap.
“Whoops,” she mumbles, scrambling to sit on the actual couch. “Stood up too fast.”
“Or drank too fast. Am I that unbearable, Sierra? That I’m driving you to drink?”
Her eyes lock on mine, sharp enough that I swallow. She shifts to face me, and the air hums when her hand lands on my thigh, and the warmth of her palm seeps through my jeans.Fuck, I’m too sober for this.
“Something like that,” she says.
Without much thought, I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She swallows, and the delicate column of her throat moves before whatever usually holds her back seems to disintegrate with the help of the drink in her hand.
“Why do you want to help me?” Sierra asks softly, her hand pressing harder. Each press of her warm, soft fingers on my leg leaves a static charge in their wake.
“I told you, Sierra. This’ll help us both.”
The air between us crisps like a dare, and I fix my gaze on her. When she stands to leave, I instinctively reach out, my fingers wrapping loosely around her wrist. I don’t know why, but the thought of her leaving makes my solar plexus ache.
Sierra stands between my legs. Then her hand comes up to push my hair back. She drags her fingers through it slowly, almost hypnotically, head tilting and green eyes assessing my reactions. My eyes nearly droop, and when she brushes a thumb over my lips, I bite her finger lightly between my teeth. I hear her quick inhale before she tugs it out of my mouth. The air between us crackles. Sierra studies me carefully before offering her drink to me.
“Not drinking tonight,” I reply.
She hums, continuing to weave her fingers through my hair, and I fight the urge to pull her onto my lap and let her do this all night.Sierra steps even closer, her thighs brushing the fabric of my jeans, igniting something raw and dormant.
“Not even like this?” she asks, taking a sip from her can, the liquor pooling in her mouth. My heart stops when Sierra leans forward and sinks her fingers into my hair, a spark lighting in my abdomen when she yanks my head back. I barely stifle a groan, my lips parting as I gaze up at her.
I knew she would be like this, that she’d like it rough. I could give it to her exactly how she’d want it. Hands behind her back, ass against my hips, my teeth nipping her ear until she came with me inside her.
Sierra raises a brow, a silent challenge hanging in the air as she waits for my answer.
I blink. Then I nod, once, twice, and repeatedly until she bites her red lip to stop a smile, still waiting for something.
“Yes,” I finally say.
Sierra lets the warm alcohol trickle from her mouth to mine, the bitter sweetness spreading on my tongue. I know then that I’d never have a sip on my own if I could taste it like this forever.
She lowers her head, her nose grazing mine. “Swallow.”
I do.
