Page 7 of Full Out Fiend

We’re inches apart, dancing around the possibility of everything this night could be. As I stare into her eyes, I realize she’s holding her breath—from anticipation or worry, I’m not sure.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” I murmur reassuringly. “Not here. Not yet. Not where anyone can see. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

She nods, her face relaxing as I move to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I promise I’ll make up for it later. If we’re doing this, we’re going to do this right. As soon as we’re alone, I’m going to kiss you here”—I run the pad of my thumb along her lower lip—“and here”—I brush the tips of my fingers down her neck—“and definitely here,” I declare, tracing the sweetheart neckline of her white dress.

She shudders under my touch before grinning up at me with an eagerness I feel in my bones.

“I’m going to make a fucking feast out of your tits, angel.” I caress down the side of her body, grabbing a handful of ass and squeezing.

“Then I’m going to dig in and eat this ass for dessert.”

A whimper escapes her lips in response to my words.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” I confirm.

She’s the freaking bride-to-be. But I’ve always had a thing for off limits.

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure won’t cut it, Daphne. We have to be on the same page about what’s happening here. One night. No strings. You don’t ever have to hear from me again. I’m going out of town tomorrow, then I’m starting med school in Cleveland a few weeks after that.”

She cocks her head and narrows her eyes, worrying her bottom lip, thinking this through. Good. I have no problem playing my part. But she has to be all in.

“Really sure,” she finally declares.

I straighten up and put space between us. If I don’t, there’s no way we’ll leave this alley anytime soon.

“What do you need to do before you can get out of here?”

I’d almost forgotten that there are a dozen drunk bridesmaids inside The Oak. Based on what I’ve observed, they probably haven’t even noticed she’s gone. But she’ll no doubt still have to jump through a few logistical hoops before she can make a clean getaway.

“I just need to find my friend Serena. She’ll cover for me.”

“Are we going to yours or mine?” I wonder out loud.

Daphne scoffs as if the answer is obvious.

I cock one eyebrow in question.

“I’m temporarily back with my parents,” she admits, “and they live next door to Anthony’s parents.” She stares at the ground, tracing a crack in the cement with the toe of her high heel. She huffs out an exasperated sigh before asking, “If we go to your house, are you going to kidnap me and tie me to the bed?”

Her question is in jest. I think. I take it as my opportunity to lighten the mood.

“Do youwantme to tie you to my bed?”

Her head snaps up and her eyes blow out, the black of her pupils dominating her light gray irises. There’s more shock in her reaction than desire—noted.

I have no problem taking this angel home and stripping her out of her pure white dress and vanilla expectations. Maybe I can even add some flavor to her repertoire.

I clear my throat to get my head out of the gutter.

“I live on the edge of town, down 303 toward the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. I’ll give you my address and phone number, and you can give them to your friend.” Hopefully, my transparency will put her at ease.

“Not necessary,” she declares. She smiles once more before stepping forward to head toward The Oak.

I reach for her on instinct.