Page 74 of Definitely Not a Thing
“Why not?” he shrugged. “I mean… drinking together in our socks is definitely a kind of intimacy, if you ask me.”
“Friendly intimacy, I thought.”
He nodded a little, then sat back. “Message received.”
“Who said I was sending a message?” I asked. “I’m just giving you my honest thoughts.”
“And what are you thinking right now, honestly?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Honestly.”
I bit down on my lip, surveying him for a moment as I considered my answer. And then…
“Honestly… this vodka is making me feel like I want to climb in your lap.”
His eyebrows went up. “What’s stopping you?”
“Relationship status.” I put my empty glass down on the table, focusing on Calvin’s face. “I enjoy being able to enjoy your company without it being some weird thing.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything we don’t make it.”
“Yeah, people say that shit all the time and then end up in a situationship that wrecks their mental health and turns them into a relationship super-villain for the next poor sucker who has the misfortune of crossing paths with them.”
“Damn.”
I laughed. “I mean… I’ve seen it a million times. And I don’t want that for myself – or you.”
“I don’t want that for either of us either… and… you have sufficiently spooked me out of getting involved with anything that resembles what you’re talking about.”
“Which is a shame,” I sighed. “Cause I really,reallywant to sit on your dick.”
I kinda hated how easy it was for me to admit out loud, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be on that type of timing.
But… there it was.
He choked a little on the last of his drink. “That… escalated.”
“Vodka kicked in a little more,” I admitted, already moving… to get into his lap.
He offered no objection to my completely contradictory actions, just teased me with a “blame it on the alcohol”reference, then grabbedimmediatehandfuls of ass once he’d practically tossed his finished drink on the table.
“Now what?” he asked.
Was it the alcohol?
Or was this really always as inevitable as the electricity I felt between us right now suggested, and I was simply... giving in to it.
Again.
Finally.
I shifted a little – the fabric layers between us were very thin, and did little to cushion anything. I felt exactly how hard he was, felt the tension in his arms, easily clocked the restraint in his eyes.
“Promise me you won’t be weird after this.”
He scoffed. “If memory serves,youwere the one being weird last time.”
