not to ever speak to me or she’d never be welcome at his house again.
Later, after much giggling and fun, the movie ends, and it’s still early enough that we decide to crank up the music and dance. Boone pulls out his phone, hooks it up to Z’s speakers, and Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” throbs in the room. Not exactly a great dance song, so they try to lip sync instead.
Z and I sit on the loveseat and watch our friends. I lean my head on his shoulder and he pulls me closer.
“They’d make a pretty good cover band,” he says.
“Taylor would be an awesome Freddy Mercury.” The guy in question preens as he struts across the room.
Z leans down and kisses me for several moments, his lips soft and sweet. After a while, he pulls back and pushes a strand of hair out of my face, his forehead against mine. “Boone and Poppy disappeared, by the way.”
“What? They were just here,” I say, looking around the room.
“I caught them leaving out of the corner of my eye.”
Sure enough, neither of them are anywhere to be found, leaving Taylor, Eric, Eleanor, the other girl, and Brice dancing. “Where did they go?”
Z grins. “Bathroom, I think. Maybe the garage.” He gives me a smirk. “It’s a great spot.” His fingers slip under the shoulder of the red sweater I’m wearing, toying with my bra strap. “We can sneak off too.”
He bites that lower lip, and I feel myself melting.
“What do you have in mind?”
“You on your stomach with me behind you,” he whispers in my ear, the scruff from his beard sliding deliciously against my neck.
“What else?”
“I’ll take you real slow at first, but your pussy is so sweet and wet and I’ll want you hard. I’ll want to tie your hands to the bedposts and push your legs together when I fuck you.” His grey eyes find mine, smoky with heat.
Hell yeah. I stand up, legs shaky. “I’m ready when you are.”
He stands and laces our hands together then we walk out of the room, leaving them to their party.
In his room, he pulls my hair out of its ponytail and arranges it over my shoulders. Moving excruciatingly slow, he slips my sweater over my head and drops it. His gaze darkens, tracing the lines of my pale pink lace bra. His fingers turn me around and I feel the heat of his gaze on my back.
“Is it irrational that every time I see this, I’m pissed at the guy who saw your bare back to give you this tattoo?” he says as his lips brush my shoulder.
“No.” I love how greedy he is for me.
His kisses are soft and achingly tender as he rubs my shoulders, his hands caressing as he touches my chest from behind, not quite in the places I want him, but just enough to keep me squirming. He removes my bra and cups my breasts, making me gasp. I’m pushing at my leggings and underwear and kicking them across the room.
He chuckles at my rush and leads me over to the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”
I do, keeping my head turned so I can see him undress. He watches me watch him, his movements languid and slow as he takes his shirt off. I bite my lip at the sculpted muscles there, the rock-hard abs that lead down to the deep V at his hips. He unzips his pants and pushes them down.
Stalking toward me, he passes by his nightstand and clicks the light off, and for a second, I see a flash of something desolate on his features as he looks at the piece of furniture. Then he blinks and shuts it down.
“Z? You okay?” I prop myself up on my arms.
He gets in next to me on the bed, and my hands take his face, soothing the lines there. He sighs. “Yeah. Just…sometimes…I don’t know.” His grey eyes search mine as if he wants to say more, wants to tell me something.
Instead he kisses me and moves behind me until I’m forgetting that lost look on his face. I’m a limp mess by the time he’s massaged his way to my arms and fingers, giving the most finite attention to each body part.
“Do you have any idea how lovely you are?” he says, and something in his voice gets to me. I toss my head back and look at him, and I don’t think he meant for me to do so because there’s a