Page 48 of Life After You

I know—deep down, I know—if I kiss her now, we won’t make it through the song.

A voice in the back of my head reminds me this isn’t fair. That I only have a few days left before I have to walk away. But even that can’t quell the fire in my veins, the pull toward her that I have no hope of resisting.

Right now, none of it matters.

Not the time.

Not the distance.

Only this.

Only her.

And the way she feels pressed against me.

I can lie to myself and say she’s already mine.

Was it selfish? Probably.

But I need her.

The song fades, leaving only the pounding in my chest and the ache low in my gut. We make our way back to the booth, where the others have gathered.

“Where have you two been? And why you both all sexy and shit?” Sam calls.

Before I can answer, Trey—because of course he fucking would—pipes up, seeing that everyone is together.

“All right, assholes and vageens! Glasses up! I wanna do a toast!”

The tray in front of him is filled with shots of different colors, a petite blonde perched in his lap like she was born there, twirling his hair around her finger.

I groan.

Fucking hell.

Without even looking, Mac hands me a shot. Our fingers brush, and for a moment, we share another look. A silent, electric something that settles low in my gut.

Then, with a sigh, we both turn our focus to the sporadic fucker that is Trey.

Fuck. Here we go.

I mutter it under my breath, and Mac hums in agreement, her head settling on my shoulder like it belongs there. Like it’s natural. Like it doesn’t make my entire goddamn chest tighten. From the dance floor to this—the casual way she touches me now—it knocks the fucking breath out of me.

Trey clears his throat dramatically.

“Here’s to big dick energy, lazy morning sex and parental issues. May it keep us all chasing true love with collars, clamps and crippling self-doubt!”

Groans erupt around the booth. Sam shakes his head.

“Trey needs to get himself a girlfriend, the casual flings are doing more harm than good.” Chace adds.

“Touring can be hell, man,” Sam says morosely.

Not to be distracted, Trey continues his drunken tirade, pausing for dramatic effect.

“To—”

I roll my eyes, leaning in to whisper to Mac, “You think we should just get him a dog?”

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