His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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........................................ NOAH
Camila plucks two shots off a passing tray. She tosses one back, wincing, then presses the other to my lips and tilts it up. I hold her eyes as the tequila burns down my throat, swallowing. A drop of liquid trails down my chin, and she's there, tracing the path with her tongue up to my top lip.
Holy mother fuck.
My hands grip her tighter than I intend to. "You're not helping my current predicament."
She answers with a slight rock of her hips against mine, hands sliding up my arms, shoulders, into my hair. "Sorry not sorry. I missed you like crazy," she says, her voice a breathy mix of mischief and sincerity.
"I missed you, too." Understatement. I think I was only half alive before I met her.
I pull her closer, torturing myself, breathing in the scent that's uniquely her, a mix of something sweet and heady that drives me crazy.
"Seeing you like this," I start, voice low, "in this costume, here with me... it's more than I hoped for tonight. And it's making me think about bad, bad things, Camila."
"Well, I aimed to impress. Specifically, me." She leans back slightly, her hands still in my hair, pulling hard enough to send a shiver down my spine. "But also you. Did it work?"
"You could say that." My hands slide from her waist to her bare back, pulling her flush. "Remind me to work on my split squats."
She laughs and sets her mouth to my jaw, trailing her lips down my neck, every touch echoing the hard throb of my cock between us that she must feel.
"Cam," I groan.
"This is all kind of surreal. You, me, this." She takes my ear between her teeth, tugging before letting it go.
"I've been looking for you since I got here." My words are strained.
Camila smiles against my neck, and it's like I can feel her guard dropping, inch by inch. "I was nervous. But now I feel good."
"Fucking right you feel good." My thumbs slip under her insanely small shirt. Her skin is feverish. I pause. "Cam, how many drinks have you had?"
She bites her puffy bottom lip as she pulls back. "Well, one shot in the hotel room, and one here."
Her words hang between us for a moment, then she says, "Dance with me?"
She wants to move, her body practically humming, and who am I to deny her?
She pulls me by the sweater toward the dance floor. The crowd parts for us, or maybe I'm delusional.
