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“You promised me a drink.”
“And miss the party? Let’s get one outside,” I suggest, hoping he’ll take the bait.
“It’s too loud out there.” He steps closer, and I shiver. “Just one in here, then we can go back, yeah?”
Pausing for a beat, I try to shake the vibration of my fingers that are itching to bust open that door, but instead, I agree.
“Yeah, right. Sounds good.” I forgo any rebuttal, afraid for some reason I can’t understand.
I’m not one to be tight-lipped or shy around, well, anyone, but something tells me my usual temper wouldn’t put me in a good position with a man like Steven.
The only available seating is the bench in front of his bed. When he pats beside him, I sit. As nervous as can be, I cross my legs, maneuvering myself as lady-like as possible in the barely-there fabric of my skirt.
“Do you live around here?”
He hands me a drink similar to the one I left outside.
“I’m from Churchill.” I take a small sip, hesitant to drink it, even though I watched him make it.
“Ah, good ol’ Churchill.”
I chuckle. That’s the usual response I get when I tell someone where I’m from.
Sitting beside me, Steven shadows my figure. Without trying to be too noticeable, I inch my body slowly from his, but it’s no use.
“Brandon told me you were beautiful, you know?”
Feeling bold, his large palm slides over the bench, alongside his bed, and up to my face, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear in a way that makes me bristle.
“I didn’t know he meant this beautiful, though.”
Inching closer, his nose hovers just inches from my neck. I hear him inhale, breathing in my scent, while my body turns to stone beneath him.
“I-I should probably go check on Taylor.”
“C’mon, let’s have some fun.”
He smiles close to my skin, but it’s wicked.
“I-I was having fun outside.”
My hesitation doesn’t stop him as his hand trails the length of my leg, and while a touch like this would feel nice under different circumstances, his feels dirty.
I’ve never been in a compromising position. Nine times out of ten, I want it just as much as the man. Who’s to say things couldn’t have gotten there with Steven, but this feels…premature.
Premeditated, even.
Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Maybe I said something I didn’t mean to say.
“We should party a little first,” I suggest, but his hunger strengthens.
“After,” he practically growls.
After what?
What happens next is fast. My heart thunders at a racing speed, my body breaking out in a cold sweat. What have I gotten myself into?
“O-Okay,” I agree nervously, and that’s all the green light he needs.
