“Believe that?” I might’ve been closer to three-quarters drunk too. I knew this was a bad idea, but there was no way in hell I’d stop until she told me to.
Her cool fingers gripped my jaw, tilting my face down to her. “I believe you better start dancin’ with me or get your ass off the dance floor.”
We were rhythm, and we matched, rolling and swaying. Maeve let me touch her like I never had. I explored the rounded curves of her waist and hips, felt the bare skin of her back and arms. God, her arms. Strong and soft. Powerful and utterly feminine.
She raised them above her head, lifting her hair off her neck. Her breasts pressed into my chest, and damn, I’d never felt anything better.
She danced me sweaty and moved like I thought she would: smooth and sensual. Even more, with alcohol in her system, her shyness and timidity fell away. She was pure Maeve, and I was so damn high off her, like I’d inhaled her into my bloodstream. My heart thumped to the beat of her hips, wild and free.
This wasn’t me. I was caged, reined it. When I let it all go, I made bad decisions and got in trouble. My fists flew, my temper soared. Maybe I was drunk enough not to give a damn about the consequences. Maybe I was tired ofalwaysbeing the one togive a damn. Whatever led me to this place of letting go and giving in, it resulted in my lips slanting over hers.
She stilled. My heart hammered against its walls. Plump lips gave into mine, and I scraped my teeth over the tender skin, rubbed my scruff against her smooth. Seconds of doubt felt like hours, until her lips parted on a moan. Her arms circled my neck, and my hand slid lower to her ass. I would’ve groaned at how full and round she was there, but my mouth was occupied.
Maeve tasted like all the drinks she’d had tonight, but just below that, I tastedher. My tongue swept over hers, lapping up her flavor. Her fingers threaded through my hair, and she went pliant, opening for me, leaning into me, giving in.
My drunk fingers started gathering the back of her dress, pulling it higher and higher so I could get at her bare skin. Ialmosthad it when my hand was knocked away.
My head jerked up, leaving Maeve’s mouth. “What the fuck?”
Haven glared at me, yanking Maeve away from my arms. “What the fuck to you. You were about to expose her ass to all of Baltimore!”
Maeve giggled and leaned her head on Haven’s. “I thought it felt cool back there.”
Haven petted her hair. “I think it’s time for bed, honey.”
She nuzzled into her friend. “Santiago kissed me.”
“I know, I saw.”
“But he doesn’t like me.”
“Seems like he did tonight.”
“I still don’t like him.” She brought a finger to her lips. “Shhh...I don’t want him to hear.”
Haven pushed Maeve’s hair off her face. “I’m sure he can’t hear.”
Murray wrapped his arms around both their shoulders. “Come on, ladies. Let’s get an Uber.”
He led them away, and I trailed behind, stumbling over my feet enough to let me know I should’ve called it a night two drinks ago.
Too bad I wasn’t drunk enough to already know I was going to regret ever touching Maeve when I woke up tomorrow. And there was not even a shred of doubt she’d hate me even more than she already did.
Maeve climbed into my truck, silent and subdued. I sat there at the curb, waiting for her to say something, though I had no clue what.
“Let’s go. I need to pack,” she mumbled.
Pulling away from the train station after dropping Haven off, the silence in the air was so thick, I rolled my window down to clear some of it. She leaned her head against her window, rubbing at her forehead with the tips of her fingers.
“Headache?”
She barely moved, only grunting in response.
“I’m going to stop and get a tea. Want me to grab you a coffee? Or that mocha shit you drink?”
“Mocha shit, please.”
Leaving her in my truck, I went into a small coffee shop a few minutes from my place and ordered our drinks plus a couple muffins. My stomach wasn’t doing much better than her head. I figured some carbs might soak up some of the leftover booze in my system.