I focused on the TV even harder, all the while sucking on that licorice.
And then I heard him make a sound. At first I wondered if a wild animal was right beside me, the noise gruff and harsh, more of a growl than anything else. I looked at Jameson.
My breath caught.
My heart stuttered.
And the world faded away.
All because of the way he looked at me.
It was the way I’d always wanted him to see me… with longing in his eyes because he wanted me.
God, he really was looking at me like he… wanted me.
“You okay?” I felt my brows lower as I stared at him, concern coming up thick in me. “You getting sick? Is that why you made that sound.” I had pulled the latter out of my ass because the way he looked at me told me he was feeling just fine. “Jameson?” Was that my voice, all thready and thin, all breathy and filled with desire? Yeah. Yeah it was, and it was all because of the combination of the alcohol and the way he watched me.
He had yet to respond, but the hooded look in his eyes had my breath catching all over again. Although I could smell the liquor we’d consumed bouncing through the air between us, the strongest scent of all was Jameson and whatever cologne he wore. It had deep and dark notes laced in a very masculine aroma. And it made me uncomfortably wet.
“I always wanted to see what it would be like to kiss you,” he murmured, his voice slightly slurred, his eyes locked on my mouth.
Yeah… we’d just totally gone down this rabbit hole.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, just letting his words really sink in. I inhaled, wondering if I’d been holding my breath this entire time.
Okay, so I was drunk. Not so trashed that I was seeing double or couldn't walk a straight line. Well, the latter was debateable, but the point was I was with it enough that I could see the way Jameson stared at me, and most certainly heard him clearly enough.
I replayed what Jameson had said so many times in these past few moments that nothing else was penetrating by brain.
“I always wanted to see what it would be like to kiss you.”
He had? Or was he just drunk that he thought he did, or this sounded like the best thing to say at the moment?
Either way, I really didn’t care because my body was humming and singing and doing a little jig.
“You have?” I finally said after what seemed like far too long of us sitting here in silence. He was still looking at my lips, but after I spoke he slowly lifted his eyes from my mouth and looked directly at me.
“I’ve thought about kissing you so many fucking times it’s become this obsession.”
Well. Okay then.
His brows were pulled down low, his focus on my lips for only a second before he looked back in my eyes. I should have said something, anything, but I was struck silent by his words… ones I’d longed to hear for so long.
And the longer we stared at each other, the more I felt that electric heat bounce between us.
“Jameson?” I whispered his name, wondering if he’d heard me or if I’d spoken that word in my head only.
He glanced away, breaking the spell, only to run a hand over his jaw and glance back at me right away. It was so damn hot in here. Why was it so hot?
His eyes lowered back to my lips and I forced myself not to lick them.
A part of me said this was a bad idea--whatever this was. But a way bigger part of me… the part that wanted Jameson and only him, told that other voice to back the hell off and sit down.
I was drunk.
He was drunk.
He admitted to wanting to kiss me.
And I wouldn't stop him.
But had anything ever felt righter than this very moment? No, no I didn’t think so.
I didn’t know how long we stared at each other, but I felt the arousal heighten, and knew my pulse was pounding rapidly in my wrists, at the base of my throat. I could feel it.
The way he looked at me was full of heat, need, the booze making everything in the peripheral seem hazy, distorted, as if I could almost imagine this wasn’t real life.
Maybe I’d passed out and I was dreaming, having this wonderful fantasy where I finally got the one person I’d always wanted.
God, could something happen between us right now in this moment?
I watched as Jameson lifted his hand, and a second later he was cupping my cheek, his fingers big and masculine against my skin, his flesh like fire on me.
“Lia,” he whispered, still staring at my lips, his cheeks tinged pink, his pupils fully dilated. And then he leaned in close, so close I felt how warm his breath was, smelled the whiskey he’d been taking shots of all night.
I should stop this. But I won’t.
He hovered so close yet so far away, maybe rethinking this, maybe trying to talk himself out of it.
Kiss me.
And then as if I’d screamed those two words out loud, Jameson growled and slammed his lips on mine. He kissed me hard, feverishly, as if this feral animal had broken free, had been unleashed inside of him. He gave me it all, and I accepted him with open arms and a greedy body.
He pulled me against him almost frantically, but I willingly leaned in more, shifting so I was now straddling him, both of us on the floor, his back to the couch, mine to the TV. He had his arms wrapped around me, my breasts to his chest, my knees elevating me slightly so I wasn't pressed fully down on him.
I rectified that right away, this surge of power claiming me because I was buzzed and feeling oh so good, and didn’t want this to ever end with Jameson.
I sank down fully on him, our clothes a barrier I desperately wanted gone. But God did I feel every hard inch of him, especially the stiff length tenting his jeans and pressed right up against my extremely wet sex.
He groaned harshly and I felt him lift his hip, and if he couldn’t help himself. He ground that massive erection into me and I gasped, then kissed him with more fervor.
“Lia,” he grunted against my mouth. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”
It’s just the booze making him say these things. It’s just the passion and being in the heat of the moment.
I gasped at how good this all felt. Hearing his groan, knowing he felt good because of this, because of me, was like an auditory orgasm all on its own.
“You feel that?” His words were murmured against my mouth, and before I could answer he was kissing me even harder at the same time he lifted his hips again and ground that massive erection against the most sensitive spot on my body. “You feel what you do to me?”
God. Yes.
“I am so fucking hard for you, baby.”
The way he said those words, so crudely, so very brutally, were nothing I’d never envisioned coming out of Jameson’s mouth. He seemed so very masculine in this moment, desire and the primal need to join us overriding everything else.
God, I was so ready for him, for this.
The alcohol had most definitely helped my reservations leave. They’d packed their bags and said, “Bye bitch. You’re on your own.”
“Tell me you want this just as much as I do, just as much as I have.” He had his mouth at my throat, his tongue flicking, licking, his teeth nipping. “Lie to me if you have to.”
God, I wouldn’t have to lie. Not about this. Not about him.
“I want this, Jameson.” I felt drunker than I was, the feeling of floating, of being high, as if this were an out of body experience, moving through me like a derailed train.