Page 21 of Make Me Laugh

“Maybe, but it would be fun.” He grins, biting his lip. I wonder if he’s aware he does it at all the right times, or if he’s just this involuntarily hot without trying.

You cannot sleep with a twenty-five-year-old!

“You’re so uptight and unfun!” My voice argues with the echo of Frankie’s. She’s my own personal shoulder-devil… Although, she still might be the angel despite this advice.

“I get it. You’re much more mature than I am,” West drones, sounding bored. “Got a big girl life and probably an uptight schedule.” Uptight. “You’ll probably spend all day tomorrow applying to new jobs.”

I barely hear anything he’s saying over the roar in my head. “Kiss me.” The words fly out.

“What?” He stops, jaw slightly ajar.

“Goddamn it, West. Kiss me!” I yell.

His hands cup my cheeks, and my words are almost cut short by his lips. To my surprise, West doesn’t make me lead, unlike waiting for me to make the first move. He spends the perfect amount of time finding a good pace before sliding his hand to the back of my neck, gripping firmly. The second our bodies slam together, he runs his tongue along my bottom lip.

I gasp at the shiver shooting down my spine—this dude just made me gasp by simply running his tongue over my lip.

What. The. Fuck.

My lips part, and he deepens the kiss with his tongue against mine. My hands inch underneath his shirt, chasing the warmth of his skin. I trail my nails up his back lightly, testing his tolerance.

West hums in approval, so I dig them in a bit more. He hisses and grips my hair between his fingers, tugging my head back to stare directly into my soul with his sea-like blue eyes.

Oh. My. God. Is he about to prove me wrong?

I love pain mixed with pleasure—it might be the only thing Dylan and I truly had in common. I wanted it, and he liked giving it.

“Joey,” he groans. “You have to tell me what you want. I can’t—I can’t,” he stammers, closing his eyes to regain some composure. “I want you really, really fucking bad.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. “But I can also walk these next couple blocks, use it to cool down, and get you safely into a car.”

I stare at his slightly parted kiss-swollen lips. His breaths come in fast and hard.

It’s just a one-night stand. Stop thinking about it so much!

“I can’t give you forty-eight hours, but if you take me back to your hotel I’ll give you somewhere between four and eight. However long you can last…” I breathe, the words less than a whisper.

He doesn’t respond to my snark for the first time all night. “Oh, thank fuck.” West crashes his lips against mine again, catching my breath in my throat.

His kiss is all-consuming. Every thought I have leaves my mind, and all there’s space left for is West. I think I might let him fuck me right here, out in the open, until a group on the other side of the street start to howl like a bunch of hungry wolves. “Maaaan, it feels wrong to watch this for free!” a man yells over his friends.

I can’t keep a straight face; I laugh, and some weird rush of relief at my decision settles my stomach.

West pulls back, rubbing his thumb over my cheek before his hand falls and slides into mine. I follow his lead, letting him tug me across the street and down two blocks. I say nothing and neither does he… but the silence isn’t awkward.

I do eventually slip my hand from his, staying close to his side as we cross one last street.

I’m going to a stranger’s hotel room to have sex. If this doesn’t scream, I’m not uptight! then I don’t know what does.

I’ve had my fair share of one-night stands. Enough to still remember them all—and not in a good way. They’ve always been so subpar it’s easier for me to go home and do it myself than it is to fake it.

Despite my earlier comment, I’m starting to believe that won’t be the case with West… Not after that fucking kiss. I can still taste him on my lips, heat pooling low in my stomach at the memory of his hands on my thighs at the club.

I catch the time on a wall clock before entering the elevator.

2:33 a.m. I can’t remember the last time I was up at this hour for something other than a book.

I back myself into one of the corners and West follows after the doors close, boxing me in with his hands on the mirror beside my ears. “You’re not doing this because we’ve been drinking, right?”

I appreciate the sentiment, but I still roll my eyes. “If I were too drunk, I would have climbed into the backseat of Sam’s car and made him take me and Frankie home.” The elevator beeps, announcing our arrival to Floor 23. “I’m here to see if you know where the clit’s at.” I draw the last two words out, watching his pupils dilate. I always thought that was a myth, but West proves otherwise.