We take the elevator down and step outside, into the icy winter evening. As we walk toward my car, I notice passersby slowing down to look at us.
At him. Ambling by my side, tall and broad-shouldered, loose hair fluttering, dark eyes intent.
This is the guy I play pool with. The guy I fool around with. The guy I found shivering in the shower. The guy I love.
I reach for his hand, and he wraps his warm fingers around mine, his gaze flicking at me. One side of that fine mouth tips up.
Do you love me? I want to ask him. Are you mine?
But if I do, I won’t get a chance to be around him anymore. Can’t risk it. I’ll lose him, even though I don’t have him. How screwed-up is that?
Pretty screwed-up, I’d say, even for me.
The ride to Verona is pretty short—not even half an hour, even with the Saturday evening traffic in the city, but then we leave the highway and turn into the smaller roads and streets. Thank God for Sat nav, as I’ve never been to this neighborhood before.
Drawing my lower lip between my teeth, I try to focus on the instructions, as Shane shifts on the seat next to me, snaps lightly the rubber band on his wrist.
“You with me?” I ask, distracted enough by that I take the wrong turn and have to stop. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” I search his face for clues, and he gives me a look under lowered lashes that has nothing to do with the fear of a flashback or panic attack and everything to do with sex.
Whoa.
“What?” I mutter.
“Are we lost?”
“Not really.”
He tsks. “Pity. I wanna kiss you.”
Warmth climbs my neck, spreads on my cheeks. Yeah, exactly like a schoolgirl. “We’re late already.”
“And then I wanna take off your clothes and lick every inch of you,” he goes on, his gaze trailing down the front of my open coat, to my cleavage. His voice deepens. “Lick your tits until you can’t take it anymore, and then put my hand between your legs, find out how wet you are for me. After that…”
I’m waiting, breathless. “What, Shane?”
He licks his lips, and I clench deep inside.
Jesus, this boy.
“I’ll fuck you until you come,” he says simply before turning away. “I thought you said we were late?”
“Shit.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter as I reset the Sat nav system and drive off again. “You making fun of me?”
“I was serious,” he says. “You make me want things. Crazy things. With you.” He sighs. “You drive me nuts.”
I’m smiling as we get lost in the streets once more, not caring anymore if we make it to the wedding or not, even knowing that the only crazy part of
this equation is me, for not running away while I had the chance.
Part III
Nine months after Asher’s wedding, it’s Zane’s turn—but as it turns out, some things don’t change. So here you go…
How to fuck up your friend’s wedding