have to leave me?" I ask it. "I loved you."
I drink the rest and put the empty bottle in the trash. There's another bottle but I promised it for London. It's her favorite.
Grooving and shaking my ass, I end up back in the living room. My music is loud and I am surprised no one has complained yet. What is more surprising is that I hear music over my own blaring dance song. The sounds are clashing and I turn down my phone to listen.
Some asshole is blaring rock over my dance party music. I growl out loud. How dare they? If they are having a party louder than mine, I should be invited! I stomp to the closet room and slip on pair of flip flops. Grabbing my keys, I head down the hall to find the source of the music.
I stop in front of a door a few apartments down and bang on the door. Hard rock is vibrating the walls, and I don't know how no one is complaining about it. I hear some thumping and the sound of a glass breaking before the door swings open abruptly.
Kane stands in the door way, a bottle of Fireball in his hand. His hair is messed up and his eyes are bloodshot.
"You look like hell," I greet him.
"You look like the devil," he says with a flirty smirk.
I roll my eyes and move past him, uninvited. Looking around the empty apartment, I stop in the living room. Grabbing a silver remote, I turn down the music so I don't have to shout and the cops won't come.
"Some party you've got going on here," I say, turning to watch Kane sway as he closes the door.
"I was waiting for the strippers. You're late."
"Well there's only one of me."
"I'm seeing two of you, so it counts."
"Fair enough."
I grab the bottle from his hand and take a drink. It burns down my throat in a perfect mix of fire and cinnamon. I hiss and shake away the burn, handing it back to him.
"Is this a pity party?"
Kane falls into his sofa, leaning back. His eyes rake over me, assessing. I'm in a tank top with yoga pants and flip flops. I have no makeup on and my hair is in a messy pile on top of my head. I look nothing like the stripper he normally sees, but Kane still looks at me the way he does in the club.
He looks disheveled and it's creeping me out. He is always put together, ready for anything and in control.
"Dance for me, Brooklyn."
I shake my head but go to stand between his knees.
"Tonight I'm only dancing for fun."
"Who says I won't make it fun?"
I lean over him and he looks down the front of my shirt as I take the bottle from him again. The burn is less this time and I miss it. I like the pain of fire running down my throat. I can feel it.
"I was already having fun," I tell him, handing it back.
"Then why are you here?"
"Thought I was missing a party."
Kane leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees. I'm distracted with the way his muscles are flexing in his arms. A string of stars are tattooed up the inside of his arm.
"Lonely?" he asks, his voice low.
"Nope," I say, shaking my head.
"Bull shit." He rises to his feet, putting us chest to chest. "You look lonely."
I want to step back but the coffee table keeps me pinned in place. I look up into his eyes that are now clear.
"I'm not lonely," I grit out. "I am fine the way I am. I'm not looking for anything. I came looking for fun."
Kane licks his lips and I find myself fascinated with them. They look soft but they are strong and have the ability to turn me into a mindless body just craving contact like it should oxygen. I hate how drawn I am to him, but I love it at the same time.
"Well lucky for you, all I can offer is fun," he whispers, his breath fanning across my face.
"That's fucking perfect."
We slam together. The impact is hard and crushing, just like us. Rough and unyielding. My hands tangle in his hair and I pull him closer to me. Our tongues fight for dominance. Kane grabs my ass and roughly squeezes to the point of pain. I love it, and I bite his lip in return. I wrap one leg around him,
I drink the rest and put the empty bottle in the trash. There's another bottle but I promised it for London. It's her favorite.
Grooving and shaking my ass, I end up back in the living room. My music is loud and I am surprised no one has complained yet. What is more surprising is that I hear music over my own blaring dance song. The sounds are clashing and I turn down my phone to listen.
Some asshole is blaring rock over my dance party music. I growl out loud. How dare they? If they are having a party louder than mine, I should be invited! I stomp to the closet room and slip on pair of flip flops. Grabbing my keys, I head down the hall to find the source of the music.
I stop in front of a door a few apartments down and bang on the door. Hard rock is vibrating the walls, and I don't know how no one is complaining about it. I hear some thumping and the sound of a glass breaking before the door swings open abruptly.
Kane stands in the door way, a bottle of Fireball in his hand. His hair is messed up and his eyes are bloodshot.
"You look like hell," I greet him.
"You look like the devil," he says with a flirty smirk.
I roll my eyes and move past him, uninvited. Looking around the empty apartment, I stop in the living room. Grabbing a silver remote, I turn down the music so I don't have to shout and the cops won't come.
"Some party you've got going on here," I say, turning to watch Kane sway as he closes the door.
"I was waiting for the strippers. You're late."
"Well there's only one of me."
"I'm seeing two of you, so it counts."
"Fair enough."
I grab the bottle from his hand and take a drink. It burns down my throat in a perfect mix of fire and cinnamon. I hiss and shake away the burn, handing it back to him.
"Is this a pity party?"
Kane falls into his sofa, leaning back. His eyes rake over me, assessing. I'm in a tank top with yoga pants and flip flops. I have no makeup on and my hair is in a messy pile on top of my head. I look nothing like the stripper he normally sees, but Kane still looks at me the way he does in the club.
He looks disheveled and it's creeping me out. He is always put together, ready for anything and in control.
"Dance for me, Brooklyn."
I shake my head but go to stand between his knees.
"Tonight I'm only dancing for fun."
"Who says I won't make it fun?"
I lean over him and he looks down the front of my shirt as I take the bottle from him again. The burn is less this time and I miss it. I like the pain of fire running down my throat. I can feel it.
"I was already having fun," I tell him, handing it back.
"Then why are you here?"
"Thought I was missing a party."
Kane leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees. I'm distracted with the way his muscles are flexing in his arms. A string of stars are tattooed up the inside of his arm.
"Lonely?" he asks, his voice low.
"Nope," I say, shaking my head.
"Bull shit." He rises to his feet, putting us chest to chest. "You look lonely."
I want to step back but the coffee table keeps me pinned in place. I look up into his eyes that are now clear.
"I'm not lonely," I grit out. "I am fine the way I am. I'm not looking for anything. I came looking for fun."
Kane licks his lips and I find myself fascinated with them. They look soft but they are strong and have the ability to turn me into a mindless body just craving contact like it should oxygen. I hate how drawn I am to him, but I love it at the same time.
"Well lucky for you, all I can offer is fun," he whispers, his breath fanning across my face.
"That's fucking perfect."
We slam together. The impact is hard and crushing, just like us. Rough and unyielding. My hands tangle in his hair and I pull him closer to me. Our tongues fight for dominance. Kane grabs my ass and roughly squeezes to the point of pain. I love it, and I bite his lip in return. I wrap one leg around him,
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