the recovery project [2]

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aidan

he can't see his own hand in front of him.

he's been laughing about dropping a piece of pizza for the last 10 minutes, and the girl in his lap is undeniably attractive— lucky him.

they'd both been making out in one of the bedrooms, and he can't remember where his shirt went, but he likes that she's taking control to push him down against the mattress, attacking his neck as if she actually cares about him, wants to pay attention to him.

she's unzipping his jeans, kissing his chest, his naval...

she pulls of her shirt and kisses his lips one more time. "how do you want me?"

logic is fighting him, telling him that this is wrong, he shouldn't be doing this even if he isn't dating everett anymore, but...

her lips are so warm.

she wants him, she won't leave (at least, not until he morning).

"fuck," he sits up and builds his defenses back up. "no."

"no?" her expression has changed from sexy to smoldering. "what the fuck?"

"i'm sorry," he slurs, pulling his shirt back on and stumbling out before she can say another word.

that was too close.