CHINA
I should apologize. I should say sorry. I should do so many things, but I can’t find it in me. What I do find, though, is something I find every time I’m near him, or if I’m thinking about him. Or even wanting to remember what happened each time we were pushed into extreme circumstances. I remember the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch, and the way he electrifies me in a way I’ve never known.
Still curled into the comfort of his arms after my newest embarrassment, I’m trying to gain my composure. It’s kind of useless.
I move to stand. “You can let me go now,” I say, hoping it comes off nicely, as that was what I was going for.
He pulls me back into his chest. “What if I don’t want to, Doll?” His voice is laced with dark and sultry innuendos, and nothing less than a hint of sexual promise.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Risen pulls back, taking his warmth and attention with him. I rush to finish my thought. “I’m sorry I’ve been awful to you. I’m sorry I’ve ignored you. I’m sorry I haven’t thanked you properly. I’m sorry I’ve been a mess every time you’ve seen me. But most of all, I’m sorry I haven’t said it, Risen.” Spewing it like verbal diarrhea, I kiss him lightly on the cheek.
Fuck, he has to have whiplash from my on / off moments.
“I accept your apology, and I have something to say too.” Gripping me by the shoulders, gently, but firmly, he pulls me further into his embrace. Swearing I can hear my own heartbeat jumping like a box of Mexican Jumping Beans over a fire, I wait for him to continue. “I’ve wanted to tell you this from the moment I met you. And in this state, I doubt you’ll remember it, but I have to say it. I didn’t know it was you. I figured it was a lifted ride. Then, when you pulled off your helmet, I almost swallowed my tongue. There was no way out of doing what I did. My job dictated it and I had to, but China, I hated the fuck out of it. There’s no way I’d trade this moment, or any of the other ones for a minute of patrol someplace else so that I wasn’t who arrested you.”
I’m lost in his eyes as he stares me down. Steel cut, dark blue, rimmed with charcoal that wisps like smoke through them in dangerous waves. The pucker mark on his chin, and his tiny scar draws my attention. Inspecting him inch by inch, my mind catalogues it for later. I doubt I’ll have a chance to be this close again.
Lifting his hand, he drags a finger down my jaw to my chin, across my bottom lip, and finishes by holding my face. I melt. Signature move or not, I’m falling for it.
Fucking alcohol.
Growling his frustration, he mutters, “Fucking shame you’re drunk. The things I’d do to you.”
“I get the feeling I know what you’re thinking, Ri.” Pushing my body closer to his, I feel his painfully strained cock resting in his jeans, just out of reach.
“God, I love hearing you say that.”
“What?” I ask, slightly confused.
“Ri,” his rough voice grinds out, dangerously entreating me to do it again and again. Feeling his chest rise and fall in quick breaths, it turns me to mush.
Removing my hands and stepping back, Risen walks away from me. “There’s no way I’ll do anything you’ll regret. You’re drunk, Doll.” Just like everyone else, he’s leaving China alone when she’s most vulnerable.
But that’s not what I want. Fuck that.
“Ri, my soul is busted. I doubt there’s much you could do to destroy it further.” Pulling his T-shirt, gripping the caged beast by the horns, I’m making him take the next step.
Gauging his thoughts as he processes them, Risen thinks through the pros and cons of us doing something about this sexual tension. Drunk brain or not, I squeeze my hand in between our bodies, gripping the button on his jeans. Pulling him any closer, I’ll be wearing him. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than this. Looking up, I see he’s battling his will to be gentlemanly.
I might have pushed him too far lately, and this latest drama could tip the proverbial scales on the mental shell. Watching him, taking in his mannerisms, his movements and his non-movements, I wonder how long until he shoves me away.
He growls. I swear my panties will need to be wrung out. That sound is unlike anything I’ve heard before. “Fuck it,” he grumbles, before crashing his lips against mine.
I’ve thought of this numerous times. It’s quickly becoming my new favorite need. It’s tantalizing, and with this alcohol-infused brain, it feels scrumptious to every firing nerve that my body possesses. His lips are soft, and just as full as I imagined they’d feel. Unable to stop myself, I groan into his mouth. Risen takes it as an invitation to advance further, running his hands into my hair, tugging lightly so I have to tip my head back. Our tongues tangle, sending shooting electricity down my spine, straight to my core. I want more. No. I need to feel more. I need to feel everything he offers.
He pulls back. “Stop thinking, Doll.” Pulling my body tighter to his, all I can think of is his cock against my stomach, his hard body pressed to mine, and his talented tongue as it dances for power.
I know there’s a couch in here, and as I try to force Risen back toward it, his legs hit the back of it. This has been building for too damn long. Pushing against his chest, he doesn’t fall back. He doesn’t budge. “No.”
“Yes,” I protest.
This time, he picks me up by the waist and lifts me away from him by a step. “No, not happening, Doll. I’m not drunk, you are. I won’t do that.”
I gotta say, I’m taken aback. I’m sure the hurt is televised across my features, but fuck it, I don’t care. Drunk or not, Risen turned me down and it sucks.
“We’re not doing this now, Doll. After some coffee, some more fun with your friends, whom I’ve left Trevor with, we’ll restart. But I won’t do this with you drunk.” Bending down, Risen places a chaste kiss across my forehead then smiles. “We’re waiting until you’re sober.”
He turned me down. I’m not sure if I’m proud he’s restraining himself while I’m thoroughly shitfaced, or disappointed. My shoulders slump. I squeeze my eyes partially shut, trying my best I’m pissed at you look, but Ri just laughs me off.
“Come on,” he says. “The Harlot probably has Trevor stripped bare in a game of poker. We should save him.” Stepping close, into my space, Risen dips, kisses my lips and groans before pushing past me toward the exit.
Holding his hand out for me to take, he asks from the doorway, “Coming?”
“Not yet, but it was close,” I mutter as I bypass my father’s things, taking Risen’s hand to exit.