7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
My fingers twist in Monroe’s hair, and I’m in awe of how soft it is. She lets out a breathy moan, which does nothing to help my overactive imagination. I could picture that moan in a million different scenarios, and I’m eager enough to suggest a few of them. My mind is hazy as I deepen the kiss, and I feel myself grow aroused from kissing her alone. Fuck. This is better than I could have imagined. She pulls away from me, but her swollen lips beckon me back. My hand drifts to her throat, angling her head, and I slip my tongue past, tasting the alcohol on hers.
Panting, she pushes me away. I back off, seeing as we both need a minute to process what just happened.
“I think I might be sick.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be overdramatic. It wasn’t that bad.”
Monroe runs her hands over her dress. “I almost forgot that it was you I was kissing.”
“What am I supposed to say to something like that?”
“ Fuck ,” she hisses. “Why did I do that?”
“Are you asking me? Or are you just speaking for the sake of it?”
“Yeah, that’s a good enough reason to never bring this up. Ever.”
“Or…”
She pins me with a glare. “Or what?”
“Or we can give in to what we both clearly want,” I say.
“You must think you’re a really good kisser if you think I’m going to sleep with you after that.”
“Aren’t you?”
She crosses her arms, but I don’t miss how hard her nipples are. “No, I’m not. I’m not that desperate.”
Monroe might have become a better actress since last summer, but she hasn’t become a better liar. And she is lying. The flush on her cheeks and her heaving chest give her away.
“It’s not desperate if it’s something we both need.” I cage her with my arms, my hands nearly strangling the sink she’s leaning over. “Think about it for a second. We have one night together. One night. And then we never speak about it again.”
She doesn’t have to answer my question. Her eyes reveal her thoughts. Monroe has always been one to convey more without words.
“You’re either completely serious, drunk, or insane,” Monroe says.
To be honest, I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore, but I do know that I want a repeat of that kiss. The one that knocked all reasoning out of me. The one that left me breathless. And if that makes me qualified for a mental institution, then so be it. I’m still inches from her face, so close I can smell her perfume. My eyes close, and I’m consumed by her scent. It’s not how I expected. It isn’t sickly sweet but warm, like cinnamon, with a delicate floral note.
The aroma permeates every one of my senses, and I bite down on my tongue. My mind races as I rack my brain to figure out the familiar notes of it. I take another hit like I’m depraved, and like a slow-forming memory, it hits me. Apricots . That is the undertone I have been searching for. When I open my eyes, Monroe is fiddling with a strand of her hair, twirling it between her fingers and tying it in loose knots.
“I have had a lot to drink, but that isn’t what this is.”
A bright, speckled, mirror ball of green eyes meets mine temporarily before she pulls them away. I clench my jaw to stop myself from doing something stupid, like reaching out and testing my theory—to confirm that her skin is as soft as I imagined.
“I’ll go with insane then,” she mumbles.
Monroe moves away from me, putting some distance between us like I should have done first. I wonder if she feels the same thing I do—a thirst to see what happens next. There is a glint in her eyes, a layer of heat that wasn’t there before, or I haven’t paid enough attention to notice. That dangerous glint has the power to ruin me, and yet, any effort to run away is thrown out the window.
“I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I wasn’t serious,” I say and turn around to see her pacing the length of the small stall.
Monroe’s breath hitches, and I smirk, feeling an odd sort of satisfaction from seeing her at a loss for words.
Her brows scrunch and then even out. “But why? Why me? You’re not exactly deformed. I’m sure you could sweet talk any woman out there into your bed.”
She has a point. But I don’t seem to be focusing on logic tonight.
“Because…” I start, knowing that the many glasses of whisky I had are making my lips loose. “Because I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I landed in Palm Beach, and I can’t afford to have you taking up any more space, so this seems like the most sensible thing to do.”
Monroe looks at me like I’ve finally lost it, and maybe I have.
“The most sensible thing to do? That’s your conclusive leap? To sleep with me to get me out of your head? I can’t tell whether I’m more confused by your reasoning or alarmed.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t know how it started, but I’ll do anything to make it stop,” I tell her and watch her expression change. “I have an important client I’m trying to sign, and thinking about you twenty-four seven isn’t helping me to focus on him.”
Her laughter takes me by surprise. It’s loud and mocking, and I feel my whole face heat. I can’t look at her anymore.
“Forget it. It was an idiotic idea.”
She’s still laughing, and I want to suffocate myself for ever voicing my predicament to her. When Monroe calms herself down, she pats my arm gently.
“What’s in it for me? If I say yes.”
A blasphemous grin overtakes me. She’s considering it.
“It’s a win-win for us both.” I pause, seeing if she’ll interrupt me. When she doesn’t, I take the opportunity. “You need someone to scratch an itch, and I happen to be experiencing some sort of short circuit and could use some… relief. We do it once and never talk about it again. So we can go back to how it’s always been.”
Monroe’s eyes find mine, her expression growing serious. “I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me that this won’t come back to haunt me. That whatever might happen tonight will be because we both want it.”
I don’t understand the gravity in her voice, but I nod anyway.
“I promise.”
Her eyes don’t release mine, like she’s searching for more of an answer than I gave her.
“It won’t change anything between us,” she says. “Got that?” I nod again, and my heart thunders. “I still find you repulsive and arrogant and stubborn and entitled and…”
I’d never admit it out loud, but hearing Monroe talk about me brings a smile to my face that I can’t seem to get rid of. No matter how hard I try.
“Why aren’t you telling me to shut up?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m insulting you,” she explains.
“And it’s the most riveting conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Don’t expect me to treat you differently after an orgasm or two,” she announces. “You can’t buy my kindness like you do everything else.”
“And you wouldn’t be who I thought you were if I could sway your opinion of me so easily.” My hand drifts to the small of her back. “Make me work for it.”
A small gasp comes from her, and a wave of heat overcomes me, and something more potent. It radiates from where our bodies connect, as if we are two ships on the same path, destined to collide. I test the waters and lean in closer until my lips touch hers, fusing to the shape of them perfectly.
My head is swimming, my ears ring like I’m submerged underwater, and I don’t think I can breathe anymore. My heart hammers with trepidation as I wait for Monroe to push me away from her. But it doesn’t happen. Instead, she only deepens the kiss. Her hand finds the back of my head, tugging my body closer to hers, limiting the space between us.
Her other hand palms my ass, and my cock pulses to life when she pulls back, huffing. Monroe is quiet, which is unusual, and my nerves spike as I wait for her to say something. Anything.
“Just once?”
“Just once,” I confirm.
My lips tip up at the edges, and the fire that has been raging below finally erupts like a volcano. My pulse thickens—as does another part of me—and those flutters are back with a vengeance. But I don’t stop to think about any of that now.
Her fingers brush against my shirt buttons. The air still carries the rich scent of butterscotch and oak from the spilled whisky as she undoes them.
She sighs. “I think I need a lobotomy if I’m actually considering going through with this.” But her ministrations don’t stop until my shirt is open, my chest exposed. Monroe stares at it.
My hands trail the side of her body. Up and down. My tongue feels heavy, and I swallow the excess of saliva that seems to have accumulated.
“That makes two of us,” I whisper against her throat, feeling her heartbeat under my lips.
I trace a line from her jugular to her jaw with my tongue.
“You’re insufferable,” she groans, hands firmly on my shoulders.
“I know.”
I place a kiss under her ear, and she shivers.
“I have a few rules…” she says, her words cut short as my teeth graze her ear. “S-some terms.”
I pull back enough to meet her gaze. I’m out of breath. “Such as?”
The night is definitely taking a turn, just not where I thought it was headed. Her buzz must be wearing off if she’s clear-headed enough to be negotiating this with me right now.
“We don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to know.”
I nod. “That’s a given. What else?”
“This…”—Monroe gestures between us—“…is purely physical. I won’t get hurt by someone like you.”
The way she says it, like it’s an accusation, has my whole body coiling tightly.
The more we talk and debate this thing to death, the more I’m having second thoughts. Maybe, by some stroke of luck, she will write this off as some strange dream, and we won’t actually follow through with it. One can only hope. Because in the back of my mind, I know that if we cross this line, it will never be the same.
My head’s a mess, and I think there’s more to it than just the alcohol.
“How about you? Do you have any conditions?” Monroe asks.
“You can’t want more from me,” I blurt out.
She looks startled. “That’s the last thing I would want, trust me.”
She’s honest, I’ll give her that. But a part of me needs to drive the idea home. “I’m not the final destination. I’m not even a pit stop. I’m the speed bump in the road, the minor hurdle you get over before you’re on your way again.”
“What?”
I’ve completely lost track of what I’m saying. I’m just as confused as she is.
“I’m just a good time, understand?” My tone is harsh, but I need to drive home my point.
Monroe nods. “Got it.” She runs a hand through her tuggable hair before continuing, “And you can’t fall for me. I don’t do whiny and clingy men.” Her attempt at lightening the mood.
“You don’t need to worry about that.” It seems almost cruel to say, but we both know what we want; we just need to make it clear to the other person.
Monroe’s eyes light up, and she leans toward me, her hardened peaks rubbing against my chest. My restraint to not devour her on the spot wanes. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek until it’s raw.
“You shouldn’t try so hard, you know?” she says sensually, in a way that has my dick swelling two sizes. “I’m not expecting much, anyway.”
My jaw ticks, but I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I want to see where this is going.
This woman is going to absolutely kill me tonight.
“Is that so?”
She hums noncommittally. But the signs are all there. The influx of excitement laced in her voice. How every time she moves and rubs up against me, her brows dip imperceptibly, the friction driving her insane. Monroe’s breathing is shallow, her chest stuttering to catch up. If I had any doubt before that she is just as affected as I am, that doubt has washed away now.
“Mm-hmm.” She chuckles and pushes up on her toes to whisper in my ear. Her chin brushes my cheek ever so faintly. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
A heavenly fit of giggles leaves her as she drags her eyes down my body, intentionally glaring a hole into my bulge before they settle back on my face. She knows what she’s doing, riling me up, and it’s working a little too well. She bites her lip, and I want to replace her teeth with mine.
But I don’t do that. Instead, I grab her waist with both hands, slotting her hips against mine. Her eyes go comically wide, like she didn’t think I’d actually do a thing. But she was wrong. She shifts against my bulge, and I think I see stars. My grip on her tightens, holding her back. I dip my head down so that she can hear what I am about to say.
My whisper is slow, intentional. “Why don’t we get out of here so that I can show you?”
“Why not right here?” she counters. “Is it performance issues? I knew it.”
I grip her chin. “It has nothing to do with my abilities, Monroe. But I’d rather not do this with you in a bathroom where we are less than two feet away from a puddle of vomit.”
The temperature between us is escalating to dangerous levels, and I don’t think I’m able to stop it.
“Okay.” Her voice wavers. “Let’s go.”
She walks away from me to the door. Holding it open, she looks back. She’s waiting for me to follow her. It’s a challenge. And who am I to shy away from this kind of challenge?
“You coming?”
“Lead the way,” I say.