Have Me - Anne Marsh Page 0,1

mask until they sag in my hand, I realize that there’s an obstacle to my hookup plan. My little strawberry blonde isn’t a beautiful stranger. She’s a gate-crasher.

Hana Valentine.

My best friend’s sweetheart of a little sister. It’s too late to put her mask back on, so I shove it into my pocket.

Twenty-three now, but still way too nice and far too innocent for my kind of game.

“I didn’t invite you.” Drunk truth at its finest.

She grins at me. “I borrowed Jax’s invitation.”

“Felonies are frowned upon, Ms. Valentine.” I wait for her to look guilty, but she just stands there staring at me and my brain cells have clearly been replaced with bourbon because I stare right back. Sixteen-year-old A.H. Hirsch doesn’t lend itself to logical decision-making. So I give in and do what I want—I’ll feel bad about it in the morning, which was the plan all along, right?—rather than calling for security like I should. Her hair feels so soft beneath my fingers, and she doesn’t protest at all when I wrap its length around my fist and gently draw her backward. Instead, her eyes flare with excitement, making me think she has a hidden submissive side.

Her hair...her hair is something else, fresh-smelling, like cucumbers and herbs, summer and the outdoors. Or maybe those are just the memories of our Berkeley summers. She grew up in the house next door and I used to see her all the time. I shove those thoughts in a box and toss the box into my mental dumpster. It’s not as if I care about her hair. Or her. In my world, my ladies wear whichever scent I like best. The last thing I want to admit is that she could be special.

I pull her tighter against me and she comes willingly, still sweetly submissive, her body melting into mine. Her back cradles my front and I’ve missed a few important memos about Hana Valentine. Firstly, she’s grown up since we met as kids in Berkeley. I wait a beat, absorbing the sexy, soft give of her body. I don’t want to feel this, not with her, but the longer I hold her, the less I can fight the feeling. Because secondly, something has shifted between us from when I spotted her and when drunk me decided it was okay to touch her because it would feel good now and I’d thoroughly regret it later.

Time skips again.

Now she rides my thigh as I press it between hers, and I can barely register the searing heat of her because I’m back to trying to figure out when she grew up on me. She’s more pocket-sized than tall, although I’m a big bastard, so she shouldn’t have the upper hand. Bourbon. I blame the bourbon. I feel her gaze move over my face as she tilts her head against my shoulder, the better to watch me.

I’m totally letting her do this.

This is my choice to allow her to take control, to lead.

I am such a liar.

“You shouldn’t be here, Hana.”

She shrugs, her dimples peeping up at me. I can’t help but notice she doesn’t move away. Instead, she bears down gently on my thigh, as if she’s making her pussy goddamned comfortable on me and it’s no big deal.

“Does that make me a bad girl?” It’s cute, the way she tries to talk dirty. She blushes and then she laughs because she knows she sounds funny, too. It’s like one of those bad pun games that get funnier the drunker you get.

“No.” I tuck her more tightly against me and push my thigh slowly up. She’s wet and I need to find out if it’s for me.

“You’re looking at me.” She sounds breathless. It matches how I feel inside, which is really unacceptable.

“Yes.” I run my finger down that smooth curve of skin, from her ear to her collarbone. “I am. You don’t belong here. I didn’t ask you.”

“Sometimes I like to break the rules, Liam.”

My dick throbs from its contact with her and my bastard side wants to shove her dress up and show her what happens to bad girls when they trespass in my kingdom. I’m just drunk enough that it seems like a good plan.

Instead, I offer her the bourbon bottle. “Drink?”

Her fingers close over mine, guiding the bottle to her mouth.

“Are you corrupting me?” she asks when she comes up for air.

“Don’t tell your brother.”

Jax would kill me if I debauched his sister. Warm brown eyes assess me, as if she