TWENTY-TWO

Lexi 

LUC’S LIPS ARE soft but his kiss is hard. Hungry. Possessive, even. 

I melt completely into it. Into him. Lifting my arms to his shoulders. And I dare to reach up behind his head and run my hands into his thick, dirty blond hair.

His hands, his lips, his scent, his taste. They all meld into one lust-filled haze.

The alcohol is the only thing allowing me to focus on him instead of turning into an over-analytical mess.

He tastes like bubblegum. Or maybe that’s just me.

I push into him. Leaning into him. Giving myself to him.

Please don’t stop. This isn’t enough. More. I need more.

Instead, Luc pulls back. Slowly, and only a little, but enough to end the kiss.

Too soon.

Crap. Was I too needy?

My heart has turned into a mass of butterflies, wings beating in unison.

He looks at me—at my lips.

They feel swollen. Like every sensation is visible for the world to see. For a moment I think—hope—he’s going to press his mouth against mine again.

Instead he smiles, leaning his forehead gently against mine, exhaling slowly.

‘Alexis,’ he says, making eye contact with me. My name in his voice never gets old. It makes me unsteady. 

‘I hate that.’ 

‘Your name?’ 

‘No. That I like it when you say it.’ 

As I feel my face reddening at my own confession, his smile widens into a grin. ‘Then I’m definitely never going to stop saying it.’

We stay like this, for a few seconds. So close, and yet not kissing.

Then he interlocks one of his hands with mine. ‘Come with me,’ he says, nodding towards the opposite side of the room. To the stairs.

I let him lead us through the throng of people. Some of them are watching us now.

And something’s happening to the far left of us. High-pitched screeching. I look over, but the crowd is dense and the music loud.

I tug on Luc’s hand. ‘Wait.’

He stops and becomes momentarily distracted by whatever is happening across the room. He frowns at the commotion, just for a second, then looks at me.

‘What about the countdown?’ I ask. It can’t be long until midnight now, and I’m here for him to be seen with me. 

Luc doesn’t even hesitate. ‘Fuck the countdown.’ He turns back towards the stairs. Still holding my hand.

‘But don’t you want to see in the new year?’ I call out to him over the music. 

He looks back again. ‘I’d rather just be with you.’ His eyes say it’s more than that. So when he turns around this time, I let myself follow.

We climb the stairs, leaving the party behind, the music fading to a thrumming bassline beneath our feet. I follow Luc into one of the rooms. There’s a huge bed and a TV mounted on the wall.

‘Is this Harry’s room?’ I ask, looking around for more clues. It is Harry’s house, after all. 

Luc laughs. ‘No, he’s got the master bedroom. This is my room.’

‘Your room?’ 

‘Yeah. Just temporary.’ 

‘Oh.’ 

We look at each other and I wait for him to initiate something. It’s awkward, neither of us knowing where to go next.

‘Take off your shoes,’ he says simply, after a moment. 

I carefully step out of my heels, dropping a few inches as I do so. He kicks off his own shoes and walks over to me, now noticeably taller. It’s not every day a man can make me feel short.

‘Pipsqueak,’ he teases me, fingering the seam along the side of my dress. 

‘I’m tall!’ I protest, annoyed he’s not just kissing me some more. That’s the whole reason we came up here, I thought. 

I give him half a minute.

Half a minute to initiate something.

Half a minute until I decide I’m tired of waiting.

Half a minute until I try my luck.

Half a fucking minute.

And then I reach for the bottom edge of his t-shirt and hesitantly pull it upwards, waiting for his response. For him to stop me.

When he doesn’t, I pull it off, over his head, and toss it on the floor.

And, yeah, he’s perfect.

Luc looks down and smiles—almost shyly—as I reach out and dare to run my hands over his chest, down to his abs. ‘How can you eat cheeseburgers and drink those awful banana milkshakes and look like this?’ I ask.

He shrugs. ‘I work out.’

‘Work out?’ I crinkle my nose. The closest I ever come to exercising is walking. 

‘And I’m a drummer,’ he reminds me. 

I haven’t taken my hands off him, and I allow one hand to slide up to his shoulders, to his neck, then down his arm, feeling his toned muscularity beneath my fingers. It feels powerful, and like I’m doing something I really, really shouldn’t be doing.

Luc does nothing to stop me. Instead, he steps closer, reaching around behind me and deftly unzipping my dress. I do nothing to stop him, allowing it to fall to the ground and land around my feet.

He steps back again, to see me better. So exposed, despite the underwear. I do my best to hold my nerve and not cringe as his gaze skims my body.

‘Lexi,’ he sighs, ‘you’re so fucking hot.’ 

I look down, not knowing how else to react to such a huge, scary compliment.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, tilting my chin up with his fingers, ‘it’s true.’ 

I look back at him. Into his eyes.

Please just kiss me again, I beg silently. 

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he takes a deep breath.

‘We shouldn’t,’ he says. ‘Not like this.’ 

‘Shouldn’t what?’ 

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Fuck.’

I frown, angry. ‘Well why did you bring me up here, then? Why did you kiss me? Why this?’ I indicate to my dress on the floor. This is humiliating.

‘I think we should wait until we’re both sober.’ 

‘I’m not drunk!’ Even as I say it, I know it’s not entirely true. I’m definitely tipsy. 

Luc doesn’t respond beyond a knowing look.

‘Fine. So we just get dressed and go downstairs again?’ I say. This has been a complete waste of time. 

‘No. Stay the night.’ He indicates towards the bed. 

I look at the bed. ‘I haven’t got anything to sleep in,’ I say plainly.

‘So sleep naked,’ he grins before unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor, revealing muscular thighs and a definite hard-on beneath his shorts. 

I raise an eyebrow and give him a pointed look. ‘And you say you don’t want to fuck me tonight?’

‘Of course I do.’ He pulls me towards him, his hands finally making contact with my bare flesh, his lips finally meeting mine again. 

His body against mine feels a thousand times better than it does when we’re clothed. His kisses are harder this time, more aggressive. His hands slightly rougher, gripping my hair and back.

I dig my fingers into his shoulders and the back of his neck, wanting more than he’s willing to give me tonight.

As his tongue teases mine, I’m vaguely aware of his fingers unclasping my bra and gently pulling it free so there’s one less barrier between us. He groans slightly as I push myself harder against him. I know it’s childish, but I want to punish him for not just giving me what I want tonight.

‘Fuck,’ he finally says, pulling back and taking a gulp of air. ‘I do want you. Now. But no. One more night.’ 

I sigh, frustrated. ‘So you can change your mind?’

‘No.’ He looks at me, serious now. ‘Because it’ll be better when we’re both fully sober.’ He takes my hand and leads me to the bed. ‘Unless you’d rather we forget it entirely?’ 

‘Fuck off!’ I say, getting in the bed. ‘But my panties stay on unless we’re actually going to have sex.’ 

He laughs and gets in next to me, pulling me down and closer to him.

‘I thought we had to be just friends, or whatever it was you said in the park,’ I say. 

He runs his thumb along my cheekbone. He’s close enough to kiss me. ‘You can leave if you want.’

I shove him. ‘This isn’t fair. All this teasing.’

He grins and moves to kiss me, but I turn around before he can, facing my whole body away from him. He slides his arms around me, pulling me into him, and I feel that he’s still hard. It’s infuriating, to be so close and so far at the same time.

‘But teasing is half the fun,’ he says, his breath tickling my neck. 

Downstairs, the countdown to midnight starts. ‘We’re missing it,’ I say.

Luc’s response is to kiss my neck. Which does all kinds of things to my body. This is really not fair.

‘I told my friends,’ I say, trying to throw him off. ‘About this arrangement.’ 

‘That’s fine,’ he says, moving my hair to expose more of my neck. 

I frown. Not the response I expected. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘I trust your judgement.’ 

‘Except when I’ve had a drink?’ 

‘Yes.’ Downstairs there’s a huge cheer as the clock strikes midnight. 

We’re both quiet for a moment. Neither of us acknowledging the new year.

Or this new shift in our arrangement.

Whatever this is.