“Why don’t we start with a drink?”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t drink?”
“No.”
“I like that. A girl who doesn’t need a drink to let loose.”
“Maybe I’m just not a girl who lets loose.”
“I don’t buy it.” He leans forward. “We all have something that helps us let loose… escape. From what I can tell, it’s not a party, because if it was, you’d be in the crowd, not watching it. And you don’t drink, so what’s your poison?”
“What’s yours? Booze?”
“Sex.” He stares right at me as he says it. “I like to drink, yes, but the best escape for me is sex.”
I don’t know what it is about this guy, but everything he does and says is sexy. You know those guys who are so confident that they just ooze sexiness? That’sZeke.
His eyes roam my body, stopping on my lips before looking back at me. He’s not even ashamed that I caught him looking. And I don’t even care that he was. I came here hoping for one thing, I can’t be angry at him for wanting the same thing.
Now, I move closer, shrinking the gap between us even more.
“You know, everyone always told me that guys with earrings were bad news.”
“I only have one,” he whispers, “so I’m only half bad.” He reaches up, cupping my face, as his thumb brushes my lower lip.
His eyes are glued to them. Like he’s not allowed to look anywhere else, and I don’t hate it. What I hate is him not making the move. He’s forward with his words, but we'd already be out of here if he was forward with his actions. He’d already be giving me my first release of the night, but instead, we’re sitting on a couchwatchingeach other.
“Are you gonna make a move, or will I have to find my escape elsewhere tonight?” I question, and he pulls me into him with a large smile. My lips melt into his, a shiver dancing down my spine as his hand leaves my face and finds my waist, pulling me on top of him.
I’m usually not one for PDA, but for some reason, with him, I don’t seem to care. I care even less when his tongue enters the equation. His tongue dances around my mouth with my own, and I have to fight the moan traveling up my throat so I don’t release the breathy sound in a room full of people.
Zeke doesn’t seem to care as much as I do about the people surrounding us. He grinds my body against him, allowing me to feel just how much he wants this. He’s just fully hard in the middleof a crowded party and doesn’t give a single fuck. And with the heat traveling to my core, I know in a few minutes I won’t care either. I’d probably give in to fucking him right on this couch if we aren’t out of here soon.
“We should get out of here,” I mumble against his lips.
“Upstairs.” His lips leave mine and meet my neck.
“Bedrooms are off-limits.” I feel his lips vibrate against my neck with a laugh. I lean back and look at him. “What?”
“They’re off-limits for guests. I live here. The bedroom we're going to is mine.”
“You live here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d it take you so long to suggest going upstairs?” I ask. “I was this close to sleeping with you right here.”
“That would’ve definitely made the party a little more exciting.” He stands up, my legs still wrapped around his waist. My feet find the floor, but his hands don’t leave my waist.
“Lead the way.”
I follow him through the crowd, and even though he’s in front of me the whole walk to his room, he’s in constant contact with me. His finger was hooked through the belt loops in my jeans, or my hand was in his. And the second we’re through his bedroom door, he’s lifting me up and pressing me against it.
“I just,” he begins, in between kisses, “want to make sure,” another kiss, “you’re okay with this,” another kiss, “being a one time,” another kiss, “thing.”
His hard body holds me against the door, allowing his hands to sneak under my shirt and graze my bare stomach.