Page 19 of Gin and Lava

“Right, that’s what I said.” I look out the window and point to the mailbox coming up. “That’s my driveway on the left.”

Naomi turns off the main road and down my stupidly curvy driveway that swings us up along the back side of my house. I live in a small single-story home at the base of the mountain, surrounded by palm trees and shrubs. I never really thought about how secluded it is until Naomi puts her truck into park and cuts her headlights, suddenly dousing us in darkness in my driveway.

“I, uh,” I say awkwardly. “I really appreciate you taking me home. You saved me like fifty bucks on an Uber.”

“Sure, anytime,” she says, sitting quietly in the dark.

Anytime?

I look over at her, but she’s hard to make out in the lack of light. I can only imagine her face says the opposite ofI’d be happy to play taxi driver for you, Mason.

“So …” I say, filling the silence between us. I’m not sure what turning off the truck and headlights means when it’s Naomi doing it. If it was any other chick I want to bang, it’d be obvious.

But Naomi?

Princesses have all sorts of agendas I don’t get.

“Are you going to walk me to the door?” I say, deciding on a joke. “Or are you just going to lay that goodnight kiss on me right here in the truck?”

She laughs nervously and looks over at me. Our eyes catch in the darkness, and I swear something needy passes through her gaze. Only, I’m way too buzzed to catch the nuances of it, and frankly I don’t dare to get my hopes up.

I’m a shmuck. And Naomi knows I’m a shmuck.

Naomi’s taken pity on my drunk ass and driven me home. Gorgeous women who are nice to you are just that—they’re being nice. I know better than to mistake that as actual interest. I’ve been smacked and yelled at enough times to know I should keep my hands to myself.

“Mason, how drunk are you?” Naomi asks.

“Uh …” I rub my face, feeling that blissful warmth of the perfect buzz starting to wear off. “Buzzed. It was definitely smart that I didn’t drive.”

“Right, but how drunk?” she presses.

“I drank a lot of champagne,” I say, not sure what she’s getting at. “Enough champagne that my brain feels fuzzy and fabulous. You know,gooddrunk.”

I’m not so out of it that I don’t appreciate that she drove me home, which is an absolute God-send. Still, I roll my head to the side and give her a cocky smile.

“I’m notsodrunk,” I say, “that if you wanted to crawl into my lap, that I’d actually say no to you.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Good?”

Did she say that? Or am I more drunk than I think I am?

Only, Naomi’s seat belt snaps off her hips. The wedding cake must’ve been laced with hallucinogenic mushrooms because I swear she crawls across the center console of the truck and into my lap.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” My hands fly up and away from her as she straddles me. “Wait, what are you—? I talk a lot of shit, but—? Are you actually doing this?”

Naomiisin my lap.

Her knees are on either side of my hips.

Her ass is pressed against my crotch, causing all the blood in my brain to rush south to my cock. Yup, my blood-starved brain is definitely swimming in jokes about soldiers standing at attention.

“Are you too drunk for me to do this?” Naomi asks, pressing the button on my seat belt and releasing the strap. It zips across my chest with a loud flourish.

I stare up at her, flabbergasted.

“No, I’m definitelynottoo drunk to consent to you—” I look her up and down and shake my head. My eyes start to adjust in the dark, and I can’t help but look at her in awe: her small frame on top of me, her blonde hair highlighted by the moon. She looks sexy-as-hell in that dress, which looks like it’s made out of some fabric that could literally fall off her body if she sneezed too hard.

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