“You’re drunk.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“No.” He grinned holding up two fingers then three. Then back to two. “Scouts honor. In the morning, I will still find your tits to be the best thing I’ve seen or tasted in a very long time. If they were on Yelp, I’d leave a five-star review of them.”
“Stop.” I bit my lips to keep from grinning.
“I will not stop. I haven’t even started talking about your legs.” He took two steps toward me, and I retreated to keep the distance.
“Angie is beautiful. I’m not blind. I’m sure her … breasts are Yelp worthy, and her legs are incredibly toned, along with her arms. Her silky hair and skin. And she’s successful. Age appropriate. And she’s naked in your bed. So you might have to explain to me why you’re down here with me.”
Fisher deflated, a long breath releasing from his nose as his shoulders dropped an inch. “She wants a husband and a houseful of babies. A dog. Two cats. And a minivan.”
“And you don’t?”
“Not yet.”
“So …” I glanced up at the ceiling and laughed, but it didn’t really feel funny. “You are looking for someone to mess around with until you decide you’re ready for wife material. That’s awesome, Fisher. Rory comes home in a few days. What’s the point? I’m not having sex with you. And why are you so anti-family? You’re twenty-eight. Do you know how many men have a family by the time they’re your age?”
“No.” He prowled toward me again, this time without stopping. “And neither do you. So what’s your point? You’re eighteen. The whole point of your life should be to live in the fucking moment without caring if everything you do makes complete sense.”
“Stop.” I shook my head, running out of space to escape him as my butt rammed into the pool table.
“I don’t want to stop. Do you? Do you really want to stop?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. I didn’t love the taste of beer, but I thought I’d like it if I tasted it in his mouth. So I kissed him, and he kissed me back. I was right … beer tasted best on Fisher’s tongue. Every well-sorted moral thought in my head jumbled, like the wind catching a neatly stacked pile of papers and scattering them everywhere.
No page numbers.
No sense of meaning.
Just a big, unimaginable mess.
That was what Fisher Mann did to me. He messed with my thoughts.
And that was why I didn’t protest when he removed my shirt … and my bra.
I didn’t protest when he unbuttoned my shorts and dropped to his knees in front of me to slide them down my legs, along with my panties. My eyes glossed over with an unfamiliar feeling, like everything he did entered my bloodstream—a drug that robbed any sense of control or objection my brain might have otherwise formulated.
Lifting one leg and then the other, he freed them from my shorts.
“Fisher …” Everything inside of me felt heavy and slow. My dry mouth panted slowly.
Was he going to put his mouth between my legs?
Was I going to stop him if he did?
All these things I didn’t know for sure. Part of me wanted him to stop because I wasn’t sure I had the will power to do it myself. But a bigger part of me indulged the curiosity that seemed to have the greatest power over my decisions in that moment.
What were his plans for us? Sex? Oral sex?
He kissed my hipbone and moved a little lower … and a little lower yet. My heart thundered so loudly in my chest, sending blood whooshing past my ears with such force, I could barely hear him when he did speak.
“Do you want me to kiss you here?” He brushed his lips lightly over that part of me.
“I … I … don’t know.” Harsh breaths rushed past my lips as I rested my hands on the side of the pool table to steady myself.
“No?” He left a tiny kiss there, before navigating up my body, resting his hands on the pool table next to mine while he flicked his tongue over my nipple before standing straight and shrugging off his shirt. “We’ll go until you tell me to stop?”
My lazy gaze worked its way up his body to meet his gaze, and after a few seconds, I nodded. I didn’t really know my limit that night. Sex didn’t feel right, but stopping felt a little wrong and even a little impossible. All I could do was let him continue and hope that I’d find my limit, that stopping point.
Fisher grabbed my face and kissed me, our tongues mingling as my nipples brushed his chest. And I needed more. My fingers teased his abs just above the waist of his jeans, and he moaned into the kiss. Then my brave and completely inexperienced fingers moved lower, tracing the outline of his erection, and his hips thrust forward into my touch as he moaned a little louder … kissed me a little harder … and lifted me onto the edge of the pool table.