“Doing what?” I ask innocently as his hand sneaks up the back of my dress and cups my bare ass.
His brow arches. “What panties are you wearing?”
I smile to myself. “A sequined thong.” I whirl around and press my body up against him, enjoying myself way too much.
His hand slides down my back and he crushes my body into his until there’s no space left between us. I roll my hips against him and he lets out a husky growl. Unable to control myself, I throw my arms around him, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him, urging his lips apart with my tongue. He kisses me with equal intensity as I suck on his lip ring, stroke the inside of his mouth with my tongue, and bite at his bottom lip.
“God damn it, pretty girl, you’re killing me.” He groans a deep, throaty groan that makes my thighs tingle and I slip my hand between us, rubbing him hard. “Baby, easy. There are people…” He trails off as I move my fingers to the top of his jeans. I know I’m drunk and horny just like he said earlier, but I don’t care. I know what I want. Him.
When I start to undo the button of his jeans, he jerks away, his aqua eyes glazed, his expression blazing with desire that matches my own. He doesn’t say a word as he entwines our fingers and then pulls me with him as he maneuvers through the crowd for the kitchen, shoving people out of the way with his elbow.
He scoops up two beers as we pass the cooler and hands me one. Ethan is standing beside the cooler, dripping with sweat from playing the drums, his shirt off and his tattoos showing. Lila is behind him with her head on his back as she traces her fingernails up and down his skin.
Micha gives him a chin up and says, “In an hour kick everyone out.”
“Why can’t you…” Ethan blinks at him and then pulls a face as he glances between Micha and me as Lila giggles. “All right, will do.”
I pinch Micha’s ass because I can and he incoherently mutters something. Then he’s tugging me with him as he crosses the kitchen and moves toward the hallway. We go into his room and he kicks the door shut behind us. When he turns to face me, his lips immediately cover mine, his fingers digging roughly through the fabric of my dress.
“You taste like beer,” I murmur with a drunken giggle as I kiss him back, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt as we back toward his bed with our beers still in our hands.
“And you taste like Bacardi,” he mutters against my lips, and then suddenly he’s pulling away. “Wait, how wasted are you?”
I roll my eyes. “First of all, even if I was wasted, it wouldn’t matter. You can’t take advantage of me when I’m yours,” I say and this lustful look flares in his eyes. “And second of all, I’m not that wasted. I’ll remember everything we did in the morning.”
“I do like your logic.” He takes the unopened beer from my hand and sets it down on top of the dresser along with his. “But are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
That’s all the convincing he needs. With one swift tug, he jerks my dress over my head so forcefully that he tears the corner of the fabric and sends the pins in my hair flying through the air.
He pulls a “whoops” face, but I cover his mouth with my hand. “It’s just a dress.” Then I crush my lips against his, his lip ring searing hot against my mouth as my hair falls down and brushes against my shoulders. Minutes later, all our clothes are on the floor and we’re lying on his bed, him on his back and me straddling him. He thrusts his hips up to me halfway as I slide down on top of him. His eyes shut as I grip onto his shoulders and I gasp when he sinks farther into me. My hair falls loosely down my back as I slant my head back and shut my eyes. Gripping onto my hips, he rhythmically thrusts inside me over and over again. Our bodies bead with sweat as my mind drifts further away. Helpless energy channels through me and I dig my nails into his flesh, needing something to hold on to. Finally he takes my hands and I grasp on to him until I come apart. I cry out his name and every single worry I had disappears and all that’s left is the blissful contentment that only Micha can make me feel.
Chapter 8
Micha
I’m lying in my bed, thinking about how to tell Ella about the tour when Ethan kicks everyone out of the house. Darkness has settled into my room and the noise and voices slowly dwindle until the house becomes silent. I sit up, but only to turn my iPod on, selecting “I Can Feel a Hot One,” by Manchester Orchestra, then lie back down. Ella is naked beside me, flat on her stomach, her hair scattered all over her back, the sheets pulled up halfway over her body as she sleeps soundlessly.
Moonlight flows through the window and across her lower back, highlighting the infinity mark tattooed in black ink. It matches the one on my arm perfectly and sometimes I wish I could remember the night we got them, remember what we’d been thinking when we made the permanent decision. What lead up to the moment when we thought, Hey what the hell, let’s go get matching tattoos that mean forever and eternally. What was going through our minds? What was going through Ella’s mind? I lightly trace the curving lines on her back and I feel her shiver beneath my touch.
“Are you awake?” I ask, my fingers wandering lower, to the top of her ass.
She nods her head, her eyes still closed. “I can’t sleep when you’re touching me like that.”
“How about like this?” I roll over to my side and lean down to kiss her lower back. “Does that help?” I ask, suppressing my laughter when she shivers.
“No, it’s worse, but it’s okay. You can keep kissing there if you want to.”
I smile to myself and then place another kiss on her back, sliding my tongue over her skin. She squirms so I do it again, then rest my head on her back, place my hand on her side, and my fingers fold around her ribs.
“Do you remember any of that night at all?” she murmurs against the pillow.
“Any of what night?”
“The night we got the tattoos.”
“I already told you when we woke up on the park bench that I didn’t remember a thing and the memories never came back to me. It’s just one of those kinds of nights that I think will be a blank.”
“Yeah, but I’ve always wondered if you were just telling me that you didn’t remember because you worried that I’d get weird about whatever happened.”
“Well, as much as that sounds like something I’d do, I honestly can’t remember a single thing,” I say. “Other than, one minute we were drinking a lot out in my backyard while a party went on inside and the next thing I knew we were waking up on the park bench, your shoes were missing, and my arm was burning like a motherfucker. I’d seriously like to know how I managed to convince both of us to do it. And how I managed to get you to do something so permanent,” I tell her and she grows quiet, the sound of her breathing mixing with the slow paced song. The longer she remains silent, the more I start to worry. “Ella May?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is high and full of nervousness.
My palm glides down her side to her hips. “Have you been lying about not remembering any of that night?”
She pauses, her body tensing. “No. I’ve already told you a thousand times I can’t remember a thing.”
“Pretty girl, I think your lie’s showing.” I tickle her side and she buries her face in the pillow, shaking her head. “You do remember something, don’t you?” I press my chest against her back and lean over her shoulder, dipping my mouth to her ear. “Just tell me. I won’t be mad.”
“I know you won’t be mad,” she says, rotating her head to the side so her face is away from the pillow. “But you’ll be smug, which is worse and why I’ve kept it a secret.”
“I won’t be smug,” I say enticingly. “I promise.”
“You will too, Micha Scott,” she argues. “I know you too well not to think otherwise.”