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“She okay?” Varon’s question startled me out of my lusty thoughts, thankfully.
Mostly.
“Fine. He gone?”
“Yeah. Fucker won’t be back, either.” I wanted to know what Varon meant by that, but I wasn’t sure how I’d deal with hearing he’d maimed a guy for groping me. Since that was a distinct possibility, knowing his temper, I kept my questions to myself. “We’ll deal with him properly when we get back.”
“Good.” Darrio’s growl was primal, brimming with anticipation.
“Is she drunk?”
“‘She’ is not drunk, you asshole.” Dammit. My insult would have landed so much better if I hadn’t slurred my s’s quite so badly.
When I turned to see if he’d heard it, I caught a tiny grin on Varon’s face that he was quick to hide when he caught me looking.
“Keep an eye on her.”
Darrio chafed and pulled me in close. “I’ve got her.”
I didn’t see Varon walk away, but I knew he’d gone. His energy was no longer pressing in on me from behind, and to my chagrin, I missed it.
That was it. No more vodka for me. Ever.
“Come on, Red, let’s get you some air.”
I didn’t think I needed any damn air, but I let Darrio guide me up the narrow stairs that led to a door on the upper level of the loft. I expected it to open onto a bedroom, but instead I found us in a smallish lounge area with two loveseats, a low coffee table, an armchair, and an ottoman.
“How is there more air in here?” I sounded snippy, but fuck it. That seemed to be my mood for the night.
“Because you’re not sharing it with a hundred other people.”
Okay, well, he had me there. I tugged my hand free of his and plopped down on one of the couches. My dress rode up like crazy, but since we were alone, I didn’t care enough to fix it.
I started to say something, but my breath seized in my lungs when I caught Darrio’s gaze riveted to the apex of my thighs. The semi-sheer black fabric of my panties was visible when I glanced down. My craving for him that had dimmed when we got out of the car came roaring back.
Rather than adjust the dress to protect my modesty, I let the fabric remain bunched around my hips. Tracing a finger from my knee up to the hem of the dress, I watched his eyes darken as they followed the motion.
Instead of coming closer like I expected, Darrio took a seat on the other couch and let his head drop back against the cushions.
Well, that won’t do, now will it?
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. My gaze shifted down to his jeans, the bulge there too enticing to ignore, and I was tired of trying.
Carefully, so I wouldn’t ruin the moment by busting my ass, I stood and crossed to his couch to straddle his lap. The dress was a shirt at this point, and the high-cut cheeky style of my panties would expose the lower half of my ass to anyone who might walk into the room.
Again: didn’t care.
Darrio’s head shot up as I settled onto his lap, grinding slowly against the bulge in search of some relief. His hands were on my hips, holding me still in the space of a breath, his eyes flashing hot with desire despite his actions.
“What are you doing?”
“You.” Well, not yet, but give me a few minutes.
“You’re drunk, Red.”
“Tipsy. Different.”
“Not different. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
