Serves Me Wright (Wright #9) - K.A. Linde Page 0,26

I avoided it. But it was a celebration, and then there were the naked people in a brothel bathtub. I’d needed the drink. Now, I was floating. And the eight-shot drink in front of me only helped along the feeling.

“How does this taste like a Dreamsicle?” I asked Julian, leaning into his broad chest.

His arm snaked around my waist. “You should go easy on it.”

“Mmhmm,” I purred, taking another sip.

Julian reached out and took the drink from my hand. He took a sip. “It does taste like a Dreamsicle. What even?”

I giggled and nodded. “Right?”

“Fuck, it’s good.”

My head tilted up toward him. His gaze swept to mine and held, intent and lustful. The space between us disappeared. Something passed between us. And I was drunk enough not to question it.

“Let me taste,” I whispered.

“You want a taste?”

I nodded. He slowly took another drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I listed into him as I traced the movement.

Then his head dipped down, finishing the descent. A pause, and everything stalled and went dark and heated. Those beautiful lips pressed against mine, soft and hard, all at the same time. His tongue flicked out, brushing against mine. The taste of Dreamsicle exploded in my mouth just from the barest touch of him.

I moaned, a deep, throaty thing that, any other time, I would be embarrassed by, but right now, I had no other thoughts than this: Julian Wright was kissing me. Really kissing me.

No stolen moments in his office to make his ex jealous. There was no one here for him to impress. No one, except me.

My fingers fisted into the front of his shirt as I came onto my tiptoes to try to get closer to that perfect mouth. He set the number twelve down before dragging me tight against him. His hands splayed wide against my back before sliding to my hips. My pelvis pushed forward an inch until I was tight against him, could feel exactly how he felt about me.

Our lips moved like a synchronized dance, as if we’d been doing this all our lives. He kept one hand on my hip while his other moved along my side and up to my stomach. My skin heated at every brush of him against my body. Then he was running fingers under my breast, along the underwire.

I gasped at the contact, and he broke free of my lips, trailing kisses down my neck and across my collarbone. My core was on fire, and I was set to combust at the slightest touch.

“Jennifer,” he groaned and tugged me closer.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

A hand slid to the hem of my dress, caressing the soft skin of my thigh. I moaned again unabashedly. It was hard to think straight with him here, touching me like that.

His mouth moved to my ear. His tongue darted out to flick against the lobe. “We should get you home.”

“N-now?” I stammered out.

“I can’t do what I want with you here.”

I shivered at the words. “What-what do you want to do with me?”

His laughter was rough and gravelly. “Everything.”

13

Jennifer

“Oh,” I gasped.

Everything. It took my brain a minute to catch up. He meant…he meant, everything.

His hand moved up to the lace of my panties, and his words crystallized. He meant, he wanted me.

“Oh!”

Julian wanted me. Right now. He’d actually been asking me earlier if I felt something. Now that I knew the question, the answer was yes. So much yes.

He removed his roaming hands and stared down into my shocked face. He pressed another kiss to my swollen lips. “Ready to leave?”

The drink made me bolder than I ever would be otherwise. “God, yes.”

He smiled vibrantly and pulled me out of the bar. I didn’t even bother to say good-bye to Chester. We took an Uber back, tiptoeing through the darkened house. My parents were clearly asleep down the hall, but we didn’t want to risk waking them.

I dropped my purse on the counter as we stumbled into the bedroom. Then Julian was there again. His hot body pressing into me. It was so much that I could barely breathe as his hand tilted my chin up to look at him, and then when he saw what he was looking for, he pressed his lips to mine again. I sighed like a drowning girl getting her first taste of air.

“Julian,” I whispered, a plea.

He’d had more to drink than me. He’d even finished the number twelve, and somehow, he wasn’t slurring or stumbling. He cupped