“Here. With you. With…them.” She lifted her head and nodded in the direction of the club.
“Says who?”
“Me.”
“Well, then…what are you doing here?” Genuine curiosity laced the words.
She shrugged.
“So…what? Are you thinking about turning your back on everyone, just going your own way?”
“No, I don’t want that. At all.”
“Look,” he said, “I don’t know what happened to you to make you go from the cool, confident woman who always made me feel a million times better when we hung out to the wad of misery I’m seeing right now, but it can’t be that bad. Let it go. That’s my philosophy: learn to not give a f**k, at least about petty shit. Life will be much simpler.”
Her eyes burned as she looked at him. She rarely cried, and when she did, it damn sure wasn’t in front of guys she hardly knew. “I’m glad I made you feel better.”
“Well, now I’m trying to return the favor. So talk to me.”
“I just can’t relate to them anymore. Ever since Candace and Brian got together… I mean, I’m happy for her, all right? Don’t get me wrong. But things are different, and I guess I don’t take change well. Like, at all.”
“I hear you. It was the same around the parlor before I left. We like her, but sometimes it’s a pain in the ass knowing the boss’s girlfriend is hovering around. So you’re not alone. We’ve all had to adjust.”
“But she’s been my best friend since we were kids.”
“Yeah, and Brian and I have been tight for a long time too. I think you’re letting it get to you too much.”
“We just seem so distant now. And hard as I try, I can’t be…one of you.”
“Okay… Macy, what exactly are we?”
She scoffed at him. “Come on. Look at me, and look at you, and then tell me the difference. I’m not implying anything bad. I’m only saying… The things you guys are into just aren’t for me, and vice versa, and that’s the way it is.”
“I honestly think any distance between you and your friends is a figment of your imagination, or was put there by you, because you’re so hung up on all this ‘us and them’ stuff. You should, you know…lighten up a little, killjoy. That’s all.”
Macy couldn’t help but smile at his playful ribbing. “I try to. It just never works out and we always end up arguing. We were on the verge before you guys showed up.”
“There’s no reason you can’t simply live and let live, you know.”
“I know. It just sometimes makes me think I’m not interesting enough for… Never mind.” She snapped her mouth closed. Alcohol had loosened her tongue enough tonight. Here she was spilling her guts to a guy who was extremely adept at scrambling her brain, not to mention other parts of her anatomy. Their conversation had done little to mitigate the need still pooled between her thighs—his voice only exacerbated it.
“Not interesting? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I am drunk.”
“Naw, you’ve been pretty damn coherent, so don’t cop out now.”
Her mind was going in a hundred weird directions, and she decided to follow one of them to see where it would lead. “I tried to talk Candace out of getting with Brian in the first place. I could’ve caused her to miss out on her happiness. What if she had listened to me?”
“She didn’t. So it’s a moot point.”
“But sometimes I feel like I’m talking myself out of happiness too. I can’t seem to make myself…shut up.”
She caught the flash of his white teeth even in the dimness. “Do you need someone to shut you up?”
“Honestly? I really think I do.”
“I might be useful in that capacity.” His voice positively dripped with suggestion. There was no question what he meant. His big hands rested casually on her thighs now, and oh, how she wanted to feel them move up higher. She couldn’t deny this thing between them. She’d never been able to.
The excitement she needed in her life, the spice she was craving, was sitting underneath her. Something to get her through this slump, or whatever it was. A bridge across the gap to where her friends stood waiting for her to catch up. She didn’t want to get left in the dust—she loved them too much.
Mere inches separated their lips, and she knew he could feel her breath gusting against his mouth. She felt his. Still slow and easy, it tickled her lips. He hadn’t kissed her on the mouth since they’d slid in the car. He’d never kissed her, even before, a fact that had kept her awake at night. But that encounter had been like this one: sudden, rushed, scalding hot. Now, she craved more of a connection, needed it so much it eclipsed everything else.
Gently, she took his face in her hands, looking over him. Outside the car, someone shouted and a few vague, colorful shapes moved past the fogged back windshield toward the club, but she didn’t worry anyone could see them.
She closed her eyes. Leaned toward him. Covered his mouth with hers.
A shudder went through him, and his hands—finally, at last—moved up her thighs. His lips were as delectable as they looked, and he let her tease them apart so she could lick her way inside and taste him. A whimper escaped her; his fingers dented her flesh. His tongue slid past her teeth, flickering against hers in a sinuous dance that had her moving shamelessly on his lap. Sliding her hand behind his neck, she pulled him closer, needing more, fantasizing about what else he could do with his tongue, what he’d just done to her. A groan slipped from her throat.
Macy wanted to weep with relief when his hands moved around to her ass. Surely he would touch her again in all the places her body was going wild. Instead, he let her go, then gently cupped her face until her clinging lips were forced to relinquish their claim on his. She gazed at him reproachfully.
“Damn, girl,” he breathed. He sounded as ragged as she felt. “I think I can handle ‘mopey drunk’ if you’re also ‘incredibly horny drunk’.”
She tried to lean toward him again, but he evaded her, and she resisted the urge to pout at him. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” he returned, his voice a low, sexy murmur that went straight to all the neediest parts of her body and resonated.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
His answering chuckle was dark. “With you? Babe, nothing with you is obvious. Tomorrow, are you gonna just pretend tonight never happened, like you did before?”
“What does it… I didn’t really think you…”
“Didn’t think I cared? Thought I was only after the score?”
It had crossed her mind. Her guilt-ridden mind. It had helped her sleep at night, that was, after she’d tortured herself over the fact he hadn’t kissed her.
Her cheeks burned, and she was glad he couldn’t see her well enough to detect the color that must be raging in her face. Even now, she didn’t like to think about how she’d lost control of herself with him. She was in serious danger of doing it again.
“I know you can’t forget it,” he went on. “I remember how many times you came. I felt it each time, how tight you squeezed me and how wet you were. I remember your breathing in my ear, your begging, your nails clawing my back.”