Inked: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World), стр. 7
“You’re driving me crazy, baby.” I melt in his arms and give in to temptation.
Spinning so we’re facing once again, I look up into his eyes. The blue is significantly darker compared to when I first looked into them earlier this evening.
His tongue runs along his bottom lip, and I can’t help but watch its journey. His eyes bounce between mine before he lowers his head.
Time seems to stop as I wait for us to connect, but the second his lips brush mine it’s like someone hits fast forward on my life.
He kisses me softly, just an innocent brush of lips before his hands slip up to my waist and his tongue teases my lips. Pressing myself into his body, my lips part, eager to accept what he has to offer.
The second our tongues collide, something explodes between us. My fingers grip the fabric of his shirt and I cling onto him for fear that my knees are going to buckle as our tongues explore and our teeth clash. It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed, but fuck, I don’t remember it ever being like this.
One song blurs into the next, but eventually we part in favor of dragging some air into our lungs. Although, Corey doesn’t go all that far as he runs kisses along my jaw and down my neck.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he murmurs into my ear when he gets there, making me shiver with delight.
“I… uh…” I stutter, now feeling a little awkward seeing as we’re standing in the middle of a massive crowd, having just made out like teenagers in front of them all.
Both our chests heave, and when I look into his eyes, I find them almost black with desire. Lust hits me right in the core, knowing that I can cause that kind of reaction in a man like him. It’s usually Bailey who does this kind of thing. I wonder for a moment what’s come over me. It’s been years since I’ve pushed everything aside in favor of pleasure that only a man can offer. I tell myself that it’s either the tequila or the dress—possibly a mix of both—giving me a bit of the confidence I used to have in my younger years.
Blowing out a breath, knowing that I need to put some space between us before this goes too far, I stand back.
I don’t look up at him again for fear of what I might find on his face.
“I... uh… need to use the bathroom.” I step around him and squeeze between the bodies dancing beside us. I’m almost at the edge of the crowd when his arm and hand slips around my waist.
“You don’t need to run. Let me walk you.”
I want to tell him no, that he should go back to the party and leave me to do my thing, but as I open my lips to say the words, they die on my tongue. Having him beside me feels too good to ignore, so instead, I allow him to walk me to the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, which is crazy seeing as I was basically dry humping him out on the dance floor not all that long ago. “You should go back up to the party. Austin might be looking for you.”
“Why do I get the impression that you’re trying to get rid of me?”
My eyes go wide, not wanting him to think that. “No, not at all. I just didn’t think you’d want to hang around the bathrooms like a loser.”
“You think I’m a loser?” One side of his lips curls into a smile.
My cheeks heat and my breath catches. “No, that’s not what—”
“I was joking.” He lifts his hand to my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Don’t look so worried.”
I nod, unable to say anything with the way he’s looking into my eyes.
Thankfully, someone jostling him from behind breaks our connection.
“I’m just going to…” I trail off, gesturing behind me.
“I’ll be upstairs.” He winks before turning and leaving me with the space I need to breathe.
After standing in line for what feels like hours, I eventually manage to get to a stall to do my thing.
I’m standing at the sink, reapplying my lip gloss, when a familiar flash of blonde appears over my shoulder.
“Sooo… Is he as good a kisser as I expected?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Oh, no, no, no. I watched you two going at it on the dance floor, so don’t even think about lying to me. You don’t get to steal my man and then kiss and not tell.”
“I didn’t steal—”
She waves her hand in front of me, brushing aside my argument. “Was he good?”
I sigh, wondering how to describe him.
“Forget it, that sigh and the goofy eyes say it all.”
“It says nothing, B. He was a good kisser. It was fun. But that’s all this is.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because in case you’d forgotten, I’m not looking for a man, and especially not a one-night stand. I’ve got too much other stuff to worry about. I don’t need the whole ‘does he like me, doesn’t he? Is he going to call?’ thing adding to my stress.”
“But he could be the perfect stress relief.”
“Men always come with drama.”
“Only if you allow them to. Think about it… one hot night. Let him banish the tension that’s been pulling your muscles tight and then allow him to walk out the door, knowing you both got what you needed. Bam. End of. He’s happy. You’re happy. You can continue with your life.”
I sigh once more, but this time it’s not with memories of how his kiss felt. It’s heavy with the regret of my past. I know what Bailey is saying is right, but I’ve been there and done that. I know that one night of passion, of pushing my problems aside isn’t going to help in