Page 7 of The Playboy

I wanted to inhale her scents.

I had to know how her skin would feel against my lips.

How her taste would change the flavor on my tongue.

I had—

My thoughts were cut off, my mind going blank as my eyes connected with hers.

My heart pounded.

My hands clenched.

My legs shook, like they were fucking dying to stand me up and rush me over to her.

Her lips were slightly parted. Not like she was going to mouth something to me. More like her thoughts were so overwhelming that breathing through her nose didn’t bring in enough air.

Her eyelids narrowed, a hunger causing that frozen blue to pull at me.

Tug at me.

Show me an expression that was feral.

Enticing.

Electrifying.

And then she turned, and it was over.

It had lasted only a second.

But in that span, it’d felt like an hour.

Come back.

She swiveled her body as though her feet were balancing on a top, her hips rocking, like she was straddling me. A position I desperately wanted her in.

I couldn’t wait a minute more to hear her voice, to have her smile at me.

To have her holding my hand as I escorted her down the ladder she had climbed to get on the stage and walk out of the club with me.

Just as that idea began to take shape, my ears were suddenly filled with, “Cheers,” and for the second time in less than a minute, my thoughts came to a screeching halt.

I dragged my attention toward the group, where everyone echoed, “Cheers.”

Jenner’s toast.

His bachelor party.

The whole fucking reason we were here.

I said nothing as I clinked my glass against theirs.

My voice felt … lost.

My throat was tight.

It didn’t even help when I cleared it or when I tossed the tequila back or when the liquor burned all the way to my stomach.

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