Page 41 of The Sharpest Edges

“I mean, yeah, I’ve thought about it.”

She raises a brow. “And?”

He mirrors her pose, wine glass in one hand hanging off a bent knee, his back shoved to the sofa and his eyes on her. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

“Try me.”

“I think there probably are aliens, but Earth is in the broom closet. Everyone else out there knows about each other, but they haven’t found us yet because we’re shoved so far out, stuck in the corner of the universe or something, trapped in the broom closet.”

She squints with a satisfied nod and takes another gulp of her wine, almost reaching the bottom. “That actually makes sense.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s as plausible as any other theory and I think it’s presumptuous to assume it’s only us, that we are the only ones to have sprung up on one of a bazillion planets.” Her knee bumps into his, and she erupts into a fit of laughter. “You think anyone might need a broom soon and come find us?”

“Maybe. Kinda hope so. What’s on this planet ain’t so great half the time. Might be nice to get beamed up. So long as there’s no probing involved.”

The wine has her lips loose and her nerves calmed and she speaks without thinking, hooded eyes offering him a slow, pointed blink. “I can think of one thing on this planet that’s pretty great.”

He blushes, or maybe it’s the drink flushing his cheeks, she can’t tell. “When you put it like that, so can I.”

His hand finds the inside of her knee and her breath hitches, empty wine glass forgotten on the floor, and a flush of arousal soaking between her legs.

She isn’t sure who leans in first, but one moment they’re staring at each other and the next his lips push greedily into hers, strong hands fluttering across her ribs and her fingers weaving up through his hair. He tastes warm and sweet from the drink, his kiss supple on her mouth before moving to graze the pulse point on her neck.

One thing she is not is bold in these situations. Not ever. Her mind and body aren’t exactly working together at the moment though, and instead of all those insecurities and fears keeping her in her own space, the lack of inhibitions allows her to move into his lap, straddling him.

This is what she wanted, isn’t it? Why she brought out that bottle in the first place? She tells herself it doesn’t matter if she hardly remembers this in the morning, if it means she can get through this first time without flashbacks of the past haunting their bed.

He is hard between the press of their clothes and she grinds down on the length of him, a pang of worry flashing in her mind at how big he feels already, how long and thick even though she can’t be certain yet. He growls into her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside while she begins to work his belt free, her hands shaking despite her willingness to do this.

“Hey, hey, wait.” He pulls back, breathing heavily between them. “We’re both drunk. Well, I’m not exactly drunk, drunk, but I’m feeling it, and you are absolutely wasted.”

“I’m not wasted,” she lies.

He brushes a strand of hair off her face, cupping her cheek. “Sweetheart, your pupils are so dilated there’s no white left at all.”

She goes for his belt again, undeterred. “Doesn’t matter, I want this.”

He grabs her wrists in a soft hold. “It matters.”

She sits back on his thighs, confused. “You don’t want me?”

“Shit, of course, I do. All I want is you. Think about you every day, every second, spend more time jerking off with a picture of you in my head than I’ll ever admit. All I want is you, but not like this. You gotta be all here, okay?”

Her face creases and breaks, nose wrinkling with a sniffle as she tries and fails at holding back her emotions. “I dunno if I can when I’m all here, Dean. I’m too afraid to do it sober.”

“Afraid of me?”

“No, of him.” She half sobs, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “I’m afraid I’ll see him instead of you. I’m afraid I’ll freeze. You don’t understand, I’ve never…not because I wanted to, and I want to with you but when I think of anyone touching me all I feel is him and if I’m not halfway into a bottle of wine, then maybe I can’t go through with it at all. I don’t want to make you wait. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so messed up, but I want this. We can, I promise we can.”

She’s swaying a little in his lap, her balance precarious as her decision-making process. Two full glasses of the strongest wine she could find at the store, after never being much of a drinker, has her floating.

Now he knows if he doesn’t take this opportunity, he may never get the chance. She is offering him permission to do what he pleases and has no doubt that he will agree. He is a man, after all. A sweet one, and so muchbetter than any she’s met before, but she felt the hard outline of his cock and can see it tenting his pants. He won’t turn her away.

She readies herself to be flipped onto her back and stripped naked. She asked for this and all she has to do is get to the other side and then they can be a normal couple who sleep together like normal people, without needing any liquid courage.

John would have her muffling her cries into the carpet before she even finished speaking. Would have taken what he needed and told her she was a good girl, then left her there on the floor while he fetched a beer.

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