Page 112 of Make the Play

Every time the crowd presses too close, I tug her back against me. Every time she glances over her shoulder, I wink. Every time we pause, I kiss her again. I can’t help it. She’s right fucking there, and I’m barely holding it together.

But the crowd is thick, movements jerky. Somewhere between a dude in a fishnet bodysuit and a girl with LED butterfly wings, we get separated. I feel her hand slip from mine, just for a second.

A flash of neon, a surge of bodies, a shoulder shoving into mine. Then another. I lose sight of her. My heart stutters as I whip around, scanning frantically, faces blurring, lights strobing, bodies pressing in from all sides. It’s a crush of limbs and bass and sweat, and I can’t see her.

I can’t fucking see her.

Panic claws up my throat because she was just right here. And I know she’s probably fine, maybe a few feet ahead of me, but I want her with me. I want to know she’s okay.

A breathless second drags into two, three—

There she is.

A few feet ahead, frozen in place in a little patch of clearing, turning in a slow circle. Her eyes are wide, her breath picking up. It’s dark, it’s loud, and we’re surrounded by people drunk on music and God knows what else. I can’t hear it, but she’s mouthing my name, scanning for me. Someone brushes past and she jerks back, startled.

I shove forward, eyes locked on her, instincts kicking in like muscle memory. I don’t stop moving until my arms are around her again, hauling her back into me, anchoring us both.

“I got you, sweetheart,” I murmur into her ear, loving the way her body melts into mine.

She tips her head back against my shoulder, and I press a kiss to the side of her head without thinking, because I found her. Because I’llalwaysfind her.

I can still feel her lips on mine, her taste lingering on my tongue. My body’s screaming for more, but something deeper’s clawing at my chest, and it’s not lust. It’s her. It’s always her.

Her hand fists in my shirt, and she turns, surging up to kiss me again. Desperate, messy, out of breath. Then she breaks the kiss, wild-eyed and pupils blown. “Tent,” she pants, voice hoarse. “Now.”

We don’t stop until we’re at the glamping zone, ours now, courtesy of me slipping the staff a couple hundred bucks and a signed beanie.

The zipper’s barely up before I’ve got her against the firm tent wall.

My mouth on hers, tongue pushing past her lips. My hands find her ass, fingers digging in, dragging her flush against my body so she can feel exactly what she’s done to me. Her moan rips out of her throat like it’s been trapped there all night.

“Off,” she pants, tugging at my shirt. “Take this off.”

I do. In record time.

Her stupid excuse for a top is next, the damn mesh bralette that’s been taunting me all night. I don’t even remember pulling it over her head, I’m too busy devouring the line of her throat, the tops of her breasts and nipple piercing, the curve of her waist beneath my hands.

She tries to touch me, her hands darting for the button of my jeans, but I grab her wrists and slam them into the canvas wall above her head.

“Not tonight.”

Her head snaps up. “Why the hell not?”

I don’t let go. Just press our foreheads together, my voice like gravel as my lips brush her cheek. “Because if I fuck you right now, I won’t be able to pretend it doesn’t mean something. And I don’t think you’re ready to admit it does.”

She makes a broken, angry noise. “You’re an asshole.”

I grin. “You say that, but your thighs are shaking.”

Her breath hitches as I drop to my knees.

“Chase—”

God.Her voice on my name… I nearly lose it right then and there.

“Fuck,” I groan, palming her thighs as I stare up at her. “You don’t say my name like that unless you want me to do something filthy, Zo.”

She glares down at me. “Maybe I do.”

---