Soft lips brushed over his own, every small gasp and inhaled breath making his balls ache. Such vanilla shit, and yet the fact that she felt comfortable enough with him to do something so brazen was a serious turn-on.
“What do you think you’re doing up there, young lady?”
The sexy pout he got in response was downright sinful. “You made me all needy, so now you have to help me work it off.”
“No. You’ve been drinking.”
She squirmed her hips in frustration. “So have you.”
“I don’t have sex with drunk girls. It’s a hard limit.”
When she pushed up to stare down at him, her expression was incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re serious?”
“Yes. Quite.”
Her growl was unexpected and adorable. “But it’s your fault for being hot and making me want you all the time. Aren’t guys always supposed to want sex? Even with drunk girls?” She arched a brow. “Wait. You’re hard. That means you’re joking, right?”
“No. A hard cock isn’t consent, either.”
That stopped her cold. She got off of him immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He grinned at her. “I love having sex with you. If you weren’t drunk, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
She growled again. “So that’s it? Our last night together and we can’t have sex? Why didn’t you tell me about the drinking thing beforehand?”
“Is that all I am to you? A sentient dildo?” He’d meant it as a joke, but there was an edge of bitterness he hadn’t anticipated.
“What? I—” Her face flamed red in the firelight. “No. I didn’t mean to make you feel used, Luke, I just thought . . .” The unfinished sentence hung awkwardly between them.
Idiot. Nothing like making the girl he liked feel like shit because he liked her too much.
“I know. I shouldn’t have said that,” he grumbled. “I just hate this.”
“What? Me?” Her eyes were wide and anxious.
“No! No. I just—I don’t want this to be the end of things between us, Ophelia. I know we can’t keep seeing each other. I get that. I just . . . hate it,” he finished lamely.
Nice work, idiot. You’ve only known the girl for a week and you sound like a sentimental jackoff.
She made a pitying sound, and he felt his face heat. Great. Pity. Just what every grown man wanted from a woman.
If she said anything about him being sweet, he’d know things were definitely finished.
“I feel the same way.” She grimaced and stretched out next to him, burrowing against his side until he gave in and wrapped an arm around her. “I wish we could just keep seeing each other, but I don’t know what to do. The paparazzi chase me around. As soon as they catch wind of you, they’ll start digging. If I was only worried about the scandal, I could deal with that, but it’s about you not ending up on the police’s radar and getting thrown in jail.” She glanced up at him. “You’re too pretty for jail.” She arched up and kissed him, but it was long and sweet rather than sexually insistent this time.
If only she weren’t so famous.
“Well, if you ever decide to run away and become a nobody, look me up.”
She smiled against his mouth. “And if you ever come up with some sort of clever documentable backstory for yourself that doesn’t involve you needing to avoid police, you look me up.”
In the shadowed firelight, her eyes were inscrutable. She s
eemed sad, and very serious about that offer.
“But you’ll call me if you need help?”