Page 57 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Do you want me to lie?” I blinked up at her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, standing in front of me with that stupidly short dress taunting my line of sight, “you can tell me the truth tomorrow.”

“I actually got you a musical teapot but I broke it, so I was searching for another one.” I hadn’t even told her about her new car, or why the old one was gone. But I’d noticed the small quiverin her brow when I’d given her a birthday present too small to contain a teapot. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but then you really shouldn’t have gotten me the teacup,” she said, delicate fingers wrapping around my shoulder, “you could have just told me about the teapot. Maybe I could have fixed it. I’m great with superglue, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m not cutting your hair again next time you experiment with superglue,” I said, way too aware of her thumb circling over my collarbone.

“Hey, I still think bangs suit me.” She grinned and tossed her hair from side to side - and that was enough to bring back the mental image of wrapping it around my fist and exposing her throat.

For fuck’s sake.

That Tequila was really messing with me. Paired with her gentle touch. And the tiny dress didn’t help either. I’d always fucking loved those legs. They’d been one of the first things I’d noticed about her. But now that I’d stood between them with her mouth on mine, it was becoming harder to stifle all the intrusive thoughts I previously would have considered inappropriate.

“Sit down,” I huffed and closed my eyes because I clearly couldn’t be trusted around the sight of her thighs anymore.

“Excuse me?”

“Sit the fuck down, Cordelia.”

“Are you giving orders now, Mr. Yelchin?”

“Do you want me to?” Shit. My voice dropped way too low for that question not to be loaded with a dozen more meanings.

“Yes,” she replied without missing a beat, “tell me what you want me to do.”

Fuuuck.

My eyes flew up to meet hers. She was regarding me through lowered lashes, her storm blue eyes completely focused on me,soft lips parted in anticipation. The things I could do to those lips.

“I want you to,”go back inside, go to bed, put on some pants,“sit down.” The words were the same, but I wrapped my hand around her wrist, locking her touch against me, and I leaned back, opening the expanse of my lap for her.

Cordelia shot a quick look over her shoulder but even though we were in a glass box, we were as invisible to the others as if the walls were solid. They were still deep in that game. Satisfied with that, Cordelia turned to me again, her nails digging into my shirt as she sank onto my lap. Her lips trembled with each breath, but as pretty as they were, my eyes immediately fell to her legs framing my hips. That tiny dress rode up. A peek of silky white fabric had heat shooting through my bloodstream.

She was going to be the death of me, and I didn’t even care. Let me drown in her. Let her burn me alive. I would suffocate for just one touch. I wanted her as close as I could get her. And tomorrow I could blame the alcohol for not caring about the consequences tonight.

“Are you okay?” I asked, clenching and unclenching my hands around nothing but air, when her waist was right there, dipping in like the perfect handle. I should have gotten a damn award for my self-restraint.

“Can you scoot back a little?”

I pushed myself back on the sofa, and with that, her hips tilted around my thighs, dress fully riding up to expose her very flimsy underwear, ass cheeks pressing against my legs, and she- she let out a fucking whimper as she shifted against me.

“How drunk are you?” I asked.

“I had a small sip of champagne, three pieces of cake, one shot of Tequila, and then the rest of your cake. I’mverysober unless you count a sugar high.” She traced the slope of my cheek with her thumb, as she searched my eyes. “What about you?”

“Sober enough to know this is a bad idea,” I replied.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No,” I said and finally let my hands sink to her legs. God, I loved how soft her skin was. She shivered and let out another whimper when my fingertips brushed against the silky edge of her panties. “I want to hear all the sounds you make with that pretty little mouth.”

“Victor,” she breathed.

“Touch yourself, zhizn’ moya.”

“Usually, I’d-”