Page 97 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

Maybe I’m overplaying my hand, but it’s all I’ve got. The words hit the air before I can stop them.

Wren freezes.

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. She just stands there, staring at me, a hundred questions in her eyes and not a single one making it to her mouth.

Then, before I can even guess what’s coming, she grabs my sleeve and pulls me away from the crowd. I stumble behind her, half in shock, half in something else. My heart pounds against my ribs like it wants out.

We squeeze past a group of interns arguing logistics for tomorrow’s shoot. She pulls me into a hallway and it suddenly gets quieter and darker. We turn the corner by the coat check. It’s half lit, almost impossible to see straight. Jackets hang in bunches, casting weird shadows over the floor, but I barely notice. I’m too busy trying to figure out if I’m dreaming this whole thing.

She closes the door, flips on the light, and spins to face me. She’s breathing hard, eyes locked on mine. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s something else, something she’s been holding back, too.

“You’re the one acting weird,” she accuses.

A nervous laugh slips out of me.

“Maybe I am. Because I like you, Wren.” I’ve never let the words out before. I’m not even sure how they sound. “Okay? I know I’m not supposed to, but I can’t help it.”

That shuts her up. She just stares at me, long and unblinking. Waiting, presumably, for the other shoe to drop. But I am certainly not trying to trick her. I don’t have a lot to offer her, but she can have my honesty.

Her hand curls into my shirt and everything changes.

Wren pushes me backward into the wall of jackets and kisses me.

It’s not sweet. It’s not slow. It’s fast and hot and a little angry. There’s the rough crush of her mouth on mine, the tangle of her fingers in my hair. I barely have time to react before I find myself pulling her closer, pulling her in.

I grip her hips and kiss her back hard, teeth knocking, breath short. She’s in my arms, against me, closer than I ever thoughtpossible. My head spins with the feel of her, the heat of her, the electric charge of something I’ve been dying to touch.

I should stop. I should pull back. I should do a lot of things.

I don’t.

Her mouth is warm and needy, hot like she’s pouring all her frustration and longing into the kiss. She tastes like ripe berries and total recklessness. I’m feeling lightheaded from the rush of it all.

I’m not sure if she’ll change her mind, if she’ll let the reality of what this means sink in, so I pull her in tighter, holding on like it’s my only shot.

I’m against the wall. She’s right there with me. Right there and wild in a way I’ve never seen. She kisses me back with an intensity I’ve only dreamed about, like she’s making up for all the times we couldn’t.

My fingers slide under the hem of her jersey, finding her skin soft and warm. I don’t even know when I decided to let go like this, but I can’t remember a time it didn’t feel inevitable.

I can’t stop, won’t stop, not this time.

She breaks the kiss first, breathless. “We shouldn’t…”

I kiss her again, greedy for all of it, greedy for more. She groans. My fingers tremble as I push her skirt up and yank her panties down her thighs. She wriggles out of them and I slip them into my back pocket.

“I’m keeping these,” I whisper. “If you think I’m not going to jerk off with these on my face, you’re crazy.”

“Perv.”

“You love it.”

Wren smirks at me and pulls me closer, her fingers fumbling with the laces at the front of my hockey pants. I catch her hand and shake my head, kissing her lips again. Then I drop to my knees and press her back against the wall of coats, lifting herthighs, one at a time. She presses into the coats until her back hits the wall and I nuzzle her damp pink pussy.

God, I can’t decide if she tastes or smells better. Don’t even get me started on the sounds she makes. I’m already hard and I’ve only begun to taste her.

She groans and rocks her hips impatiently. If we were anywhere else, I would tease her, draw it out and make her orgasm two or three times. But we’re at a party and someone is bound to come looking for us sooner or later. So I run my tongue over her slit, which is dripping wet, and moan at the taste of her. Sweet and faintly metallic.

She drives her hands into my hair and I kiss her clit. She makes a lowmmmof pleasure as I circle the tender bud with my tongue. I shift her thighs so they are wider apart, giving me better access, and suck on her clit. Lightly at first, then with increasing vigor. She’s panting and moaning and whispering, “Fuck, Ryan! Right there…”