I want to keep kissing her. Want my tongue dancing with hers, want her body under mine, want her groaning as I make her come.
My hand plants on her knee. It's desperate to slide between her legs and stroke her to orgasm.
That is out of the question.
I pull back and shift to my side of the couch. Something about the kiss lingers. Not just the taste of her, but this feeling in my chest. I can't remember the last time I kissed someone sober.
It's different.
Good different.
She's bright red.
Fuck, she really is cute enough to eat.
"Happy New Years," she mumbles.
"Happy New Years."
She shifts back to teasing. "Are you going to insist on driving me home?"
"No, but I'm going to insist on walking you to your car."
She raises a brow.
"Or you can spend the night in the guest room. Road will be full of drunks for the next hour or two."
"Well then you better entertain me for the next hour or two."
I point back to the TV.
"You can do better."
I can do a lot better, but all my other ideas will get me in trouble.
Chapter 3
Piper
It's nearly three A.M. when I manage to drag myself from Kit's apartment. Leaving is for the best—if my tongue gets tied into any more knots, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to use it again.
True to his word, he walks me from his building to my car. The first few blocks are nice, gentrified, then we get into the sketchy part of Downtown. I hang closer to him as we pass Skid Row.
He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me across the street. "Should have warned me you parked in a shit area. I would have driven you to your car."
"Don't you drive a motorcycle?"
He cocks a brow. "And?"
"Would that really be safer?" I'm not sure why I'm talking myself out of the chance to wrap my arms around Kit and hold on tightly, but the point stands.
"Yeah." His deep voice gets serious, protective. "I don't want anything happening to you."
"Yeah, you wouldn't want that strike against you."
"No, Piper. You're a good kid, and we're friends. I don't want anything happening to you."
"Oh, yeah. Right." My eyes get stuck on his. I can't help it. His brown eyes are beautiful. But this really isn't the place to stop to chat. I force myself to move forward.