Page 71

Not just any kiss.
A knock-the-smugness-right-out-of-him, shut-him-the-hell-up kiss.
His hands squirmed, but where his brain was continent-sized, my strength was equally overpowering. I pressed him fully against the door, dropped one wrist so my fingers could tangle in his hair.
I tasted the wine on his lips, the laughter, the victory, the heat.
Mike shivered, exhaling against my mouth, sinking into me like I was the only thing keeping him standing.
And I liked that.
I liked it a lot.
When I pulled back, his eyes were unfocused, lips parted, breathing uneven.
I grinned, leaning in just enough to tease.
“Trivia Champion of the Universe, huh?” I murmured.
“Uh.” Mike blinked. “What?”
I smirked.
“I made you a promise tonight.”
His whole face scrunched up, as only one under the influence can manage.
Then, low and smug, I whispered, “You’resogetting laid for this.”
Mike made a noise.
A very good noise.
Somewhere between a whine and a whimper.
I chuckled, pressing one last slow, teasing kiss to his jaw before stepping back.
His hand lingered on my side, like he wasn’t sure whether to pull me back or shove me away before he spontaneously combusted.
I grinned.
Then a voice I hadn’t hoped to hear that night shattered our moment.
“Fuck him good, Elliot. Right up the ass. Make him walk funny for a week!”
Oh, God, Mrs. H was out walking the neighborhood.
Mike’s eyes bugged, then he doubled over, snorting almost as loud as his laughter.
I grabbed him roughly, pulling him into me and resisting any urge to turn and acknowledge my old neighbor’s presence.
“You have to take his clothes off first!” she shouted.
Mike squirmed. His laughter shook through my body. His snorts were sharp and rang in my ears.
“Go on, boys. You both know you want a little D—or in your case, Elliot, a big D. We all know you’re packin’. Give it to him real good. Tear his hole—”
I couldn’t take any more. With a quick turn of the doorknob, I shoved Mike into his house and slammed the door behind us. Whatever Mrs. H shouted next was drowned out.