nightshade. I'd let her poison me if I could. If she wouldn't let me into her life, death was on my horizon. How could a man struggle to breathe when he was denied the existence of air?
My nostrils flared to claim her scent. In my ears, her moan was a mixture of surprise and delight. She wanted this. Wanted it. Her argument had said it, I knew that now. She called me a risk, but one she had concentrated on resisting.
I'm no more a risk than she is. I lost my hands in her thick brunette locks. My ribs screamed, telling me I needed oxygen. Ignoring them, my mouth pressed on her even harder. Lola wrapped her perfect hands, her fucking perfectly magical hands, around my waist. It was an aphrodisiac.
The 'ding' of the elevator ended the moment.
Lola's seeking touch become rough; a shove, aiming to push me away. I gasped for air, eyes glowing on her blues. Her creamy cheeks were fire, but so was her voice. “Get off of me, Drezden.”
It took everything I had to step backwards. My hands slid through her hair, the strands silken and buttery. We were both breathing hard. I saw the hint of her nipples straining through her shirt. Each heave taunted me more.
Lola's gaze darted down. I knew she had spotted my raging hard-on, I was wishing my pants weren't so fucking tight.
She moved forward; I inhaled sharply. When she just grabbed her bag and guitar, spinning out the doors, I felt the cold prickles of distress. Lola was running away. Giving into my burst of emotion, my desire, hadn't changed a fucking thing between us.
Watching her stumble down the hall, stopping in front of a door, I did nothing. When she fumbled for her keycard and burst through, I still did nothing.
It wasn't until she vanished from my sight that I grabbed my bag. Exiting the elevator, a place cloying with her scent—and mine—I stepped into the quiet hallway. I messed that up. Badly. I wanted to laugh until my throat was ruined. Fuck, did I mess that up.
My move had been something a teenager would have done. She's the nineteen year old. I should fucking know better. Lola was stronger than I thought.
I'd given up my cards, she knew my hand.
Digging into my pocket, I revealed my keycard. It said room 704. Looking up, I stared blankly at the door Lola had entered; 705.
We were right fucking next to each other.
Then I really did laugh, and it was bitter as lemon peels.
Chapter Four.
Lola
––––––––
I couldn't get my breathing under control.
Leaning on the inside of my hotel room, I buried my palm on my chest and hyperventilated.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit.
Drezden had kissed me. Kissed me .
Holy fucking shit.
Reaching up, I dragged my fingers over my lips. His taste remained; cinnamon and tobacco. I should have hated it, but it was exotic and made my head foggy.
He fucking kissed me. Now what was I supposed to do?
Every inch of my body was acutely electric. Even the backs of my ears felt like someone had run a static roller over them. Waves of heat ricocheted from head to toe, settling into my lower belly until I had to squeeze my thighs.
Each time Drezden had gotten close to me, fate had intervened. The tub, the practice room, and now a fricking elevator.
He kissed me!
I couldn't get the image out of my head.
At my feet, my bag and case lay in a heap. I'd dropped them unceremoniously as soon as I'd escaped Drezden's molten stare. The way he'd looked at me when I shoved him off... I hurt him. I told him to get off of me. He didn't expect that. Running my fingers over my eyebrows, I smoothed them repetitively; nervously. Well, too fucking bad! I told him we couldn't, we shouldn't, and he fucking has the balls to try anyway.
I loved that he had tried.
I hated it too.
Ugh, what do I even want anymore? Was anyone as confused as me in this weird world? I was supposed to be thinking about how I'd be playing in front of thousands of people tonight, not getting swept up in my obsession with Drezden Halifax. Drezden
My nostrils flared to claim her scent. In my ears, her moan was a mixture of surprise and delight. She wanted this. Wanted it. Her argument had said it, I knew that now. She called me a risk, but one she had concentrated on resisting.
I'm no more a risk than she is. I lost my hands in her thick brunette locks. My ribs screamed, telling me I needed oxygen. Ignoring them, my mouth pressed on her even harder. Lola wrapped her perfect hands, her fucking perfectly magical hands, around my waist. It was an aphrodisiac.
The 'ding' of the elevator ended the moment.
Lola's seeking touch become rough; a shove, aiming to push me away. I gasped for air, eyes glowing on her blues. Her creamy cheeks were fire, but so was her voice. “Get off of me, Drezden.”
It took everything I had to step backwards. My hands slid through her hair, the strands silken and buttery. We were both breathing hard. I saw the hint of her nipples straining through her shirt. Each heave taunted me more.
Lola's gaze darted down. I knew she had spotted my raging hard-on, I was wishing my pants weren't so fucking tight.
She moved forward; I inhaled sharply. When she just grabbed her bag and guitar, spinning out the doors, I felt the cold prickles of distress. Lola was running away. Giving into my burst of emotion, my desire, hadn't changed a fucking thing between us.
Watching her stumble down the hall, stopping in front of a door, I did nothing. When she fumbled for her keycard and burst through, I still did nothing.
It wasn't until she vanished from my sight that I grabbed my bag. Exiting the elevator, a place cloying with her scent—and mine—I stepped into the quiet hallway. I messed that up. Badly. I wanted to laugh until my throat was ruined. Fuck, did I mess that up.
My move had been something a teenager would have done. She's the nineteen year old. I should fucking know better. Lola was stronger than I thought.
I'd given up my cards, she knew my hand.
Digging into my pocket, I revealed my keycard. It said room 704. Looking up, I stared blankly at the door Lola had entered; 705.
We were right fucking next to each other.
Then I really did laugh, and it was bitter as lemon peels.
Chapter Four.
Lola
––––––––
I couldn't get my breathing under control.
Leaning on the inside of my hotel room, I buried my palm on my chest and hyperventilated.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit.
Drezden had kissed me. Kissed me .
Holy fucking shit.
Reaching up, I dragged my fingers over my lips. His taste remained; cinnamon and tobacco. I should have hated it, but it was exotic and made my head foggy.
He fucking kissed me. Now what was I supposed to do?
Every inch of my body was acutely electric. Even the backs of my ears felt like someone had run a static roller over them. Waves of heat ricocheted from head to toe, settling into my lower belly until I had to squeeze my thighs.
Each time Drezden had gotten close to me, fate had intervened. The tub, the practice room, and now a fricking elevator.
He kissed me!
I couldn't get the image out of my head.
At my feet, my bag and case lay in a heap. I'd dropped them unceremoniously as soon as I'd escaped Drezden's molten stare. The way he'd looked at me when I shoved him off... I hurt him. I told him to get off of me. He didn't expect that. Running my fingers over my eyebrows, I smoothed them repetitively; nervously. Well, too fucking bad! I told him we couldn't, we shouldn't, and he fucking has the balls to try anyway.
I loved that he had tried.
I hated it too.
Ugh, what do I even want anymore? Was anyone as confused as me in this weird world? I was supposed to be thinking about how I'd be playing in front of thousands of people tonight, not getting swept up in my obsession with Drezden Halifax. Drezden
Similar Books
My Grandfather Would Have Shot Me: A Black Woman Discovers Her Family's Nazi Past
Jennifer Teege, Nikola Sellmair
