Suddenly, he kisses me. Deep, hard. Oh…this can’t be just in my mind.
My back digs into the counter, but he wraps an arm around me, bringing me to his chest, tugging me closer than close. His body melds against my legs and torso, and I succumb to his tongue that finds mine. His large hand caresses my neck, and I submit to our eagerness as he drives closer, to the fire that ignites us both.
And then he pulls away, and his tongue slips into my ear. I squeal, awakening, and shove him off.
He laughs, full-bellied laughs, and turns his back on me to pick up his thermos. His lips are red and mine sting and puff from that intense kiss. All to prove me wrong, I suppose.
“That was not necessary,” I tell him.
“Now you’re going to tell me you didn’t love my tongue in your mouth? I know you’d like way more than that. Maybe my tongue licking your—”
“Stop,” I say, my body tightening. I glance over at Daisy who flips through a photo album in the living room. When I turn back to Lo, my jaw has officially unhinged. He purposefully wipes his sweaty brow with the hem of his black tee, just so I’ll catch a peek of the prominent ridges in his abs. My breath deepens, hot and bothered, but I would be this way if anyone did that to me…I think.
He edges over again and loops a finger in the hem of my pants, tugging me to him. “Relax, love,” he whispers, playing into the performance. “I can finish you off later.” He sucks hard on my neck, and a sound catches in my throat.
Okay, this is too much. I shove him off, too hot to even shoot him a warning glare about taking the charade too far—about teasing me again. Lo is too good at hitting my tender spots. And then I remember Cassie, her cries, as though Lo is more masterful than he’s ever admitted. Is he really that good in bed? Don’t go there, Lily. There’s no coming back once you do.
My nerves still thrum from the aftermath, and he subconsciously licks his bottom lip, leaning against the counter as he watches me grow redder. Even that pulses the place between my legs, making me crave something more. Something further than just kisses and fondling. Oh God.
Daisy returns from the living room with an uncomfortable look. I sincerely hope she didn’t witness any of that. I’m an awful sister. Truly horrible. “I actually don’t want to be in your way,” she confesses. “I’ll just stay in the guest room and watch TV if that’s all right?”
“That’s fine, Dais.” I show her to the guest bedroom, pressing a finger to my tingling lips on the way. She disappears inside and throws her bag on the bed. I close the door as I exit, and Lo stands right there in the hallway with a foot against the wall. He nods to his room—the one we’re supposed to share every night.
I follow and he turns the lock once inside.
On the dresser, I dock my iPod and put the speaker on a low tune but loud enough that I ease at the idea of speaking freely. These walls can be thin. Case in point, the thump thump thump of Lo’s sexual adventures with Cassie.
Tinted glass cabinets engulf an entire wall. Seven of the twenty have secret locks that only open with a magnetic key. I would say he’s paranoid, but last winter, I had to explain to Rose why a dozen quarter-filled tequila bottles were shoved underneath the sink. One of Lo’s worst weeks, and I haphazardly tried cleaning up after him. Not well enough, apparently.
Rose didn’t question my story, only complained that I hadn’t invited her to our Mexican themed blowout. I should laugh at the ludicrous lie—that we actually have friends to call—but I sadden at the thought of Lo drinking enough alcohol in one week to satiate an entire house party.
He pulls out a glass and a bottle of an amber-colored liquid.
I climb onto his bed, my heart racing from earlier. It shouldn’t. This is Lo. We’re supposed to be together. We’re supposed to be affectionate, but yet, I can’t stop replaying what happened. I can’t stop blushing or heating or wishing he’d just take me right here. No, no, no. Don’t go there.
I rest my back against his oak headboard. “Can you make me something?” I ask, my voice raspy. I clear my throat. Jeez, what is wrong with me? I’m usually not this uncomfortable with Lo, but this situation mounts my anxiety and my desires. I cross my legs and swallow hard.
His eyes flicker to me briefly, and he tries to hide a knowing grin. He clinks another crystal glass to his and sets them on his desk. I watch as he unlocks a second cabinet with the mini fridge hidden inside. He scoops out ice and effortlessly pours the liquor without pause or spillage. When he finishes, he walks around to my side of the bed, not sitting next to me. Instead, he hovers with both glasses in hand.