Lifeline

“Feel… fucking guilty,” he mumbles almost incoherently.

“You drank?” I ask the stupid question, wrapping my arms around him and locking my legs in place so he doesn’t drag us both down when his body leans heavily into mine. “Ugh, forget it.”

It takes a hell of a lot of strength to pull O’Brien toward the couch. “Let’s get you settled, then I’ll grab you some water.”

“Not thirsty,” he mumbles. Somehow he manages to stand up a little straighter, squinting at me. The expression on his face turns predatory, making my stomach tighten, then he moves faster than any drunk person should be able to. The force of his body hitting mine knocks me off balance, dropping me to the floor with him on top of me. His hands grip the sides of my head, his mouth crashes against mine in a bruising kiss, and common sense is nowhere to be found.

Oh shit.

With a forceful thrust, his tongue enters my mouth. The taste of alcohol, cigarettes, and O’Brien is one hell of an adrenaline shot instead of disgusting.

A growl ripples from his chest, the sound filled with intense satisfaction as if he’s been dying to kiss me.

He’s drunk.

I’m torn between losing myself in the kiss and doing the right thing and pushing him away when his knee shoves my legs open, and his hand burns over my ribs. He grabs a fistful of my shirt, and in one hard yank, the fabric’s up and exposing my breasts.

Oh my God.

His palm covers my breast, his touch rough and demanding, setting fire to my body.

OhGodOhGodOhGod.

O’Brien breaks the kiss, his lips scorching their way down my throat. “Fuck, moan for me.”

As always, my body listens, and with his palm covering my breast, his fingers digging into my skin, I moan for him. The pleasure hitting me is overwhelming and honestly bewildering as hell. I’ve wanted this for so long, the moment’s too intense for me to think straight.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his voice hoarse and deep, dragging me further into the blazing fire he’s creating in me. “I want all your moans.” His teeth tug at my skin, his fingers pull and roll my nipple. “I want your screams.” His leg pushes my legs wider apart as his thigh rubs hard against my damp shorts.

God, he has me wet and ready while drunk. What will he be like sober?

Whether it’s the alcohol or actual need, O’Brien loses control, his hands rubbing hard over every inch of my skin he can touch. His kisses become feverish and impatient, then he freaking moves, pressing his hard length between my legs. “Want to fuck you so hard you’ll never get me out.”

A whimper’s torn from me when I feel how big he is through the clothes and wanting every inch of him to fill me in dominating thrusts.

God, do I want him.

More than my next breath.

O’Brien shoves his hand down between us and cups me through my shorts. Another satisfied growl rumbles from his chest. “Christ. So fucking wet.”

The slurring in his voice finally breaks through the haze, enough for my mind to catch up to what’s really happening, and using all my strength, I push against his chest. “You’re drunk.”

Instead of stopping, he starts to rub my clit. A sound between a whimper and frustration escapes me because all I want to do is let him have his way with me, but knowing this is not right, I push harder. “No, Daniel. Stop.”

His body instantly stills on top of mine, then he rolls off of me with a groan, slumping to his back.

Breathless and stunned, I lie beside him, my mind catching up to what just went down, then the emotions hit hard. I lift a trembling hand and quickly pull my shirt down, covering my chest and stomach. My skin still tingles from his touch, my clit feeling swollen.

God, JJ, you should’ve stopped him the second he kissed you.

But…

Closing my eyes, I can’t stop myself from relishing in how incredibly good it felt to be touched and kissed by him.

He’s drunk. It doesn’t mean anything.

But…

Even drunk, he’d already had to feel something for me to want to sleep with me. Right?

You’re his partner. Of course, he cares, but he’s drunk, and you can’t read more into it. Don’t start hoping for something that can’t be.

Even breaths sound up next to me, and I turn my head to look at O’Brien, who’s now fast asleep while I’m a sexually frustrated and confused mess beside him.

Turning onto my side, I press my face into his shoulder and take a deep breath of his scent that’s a lot like the day he tackled me in the warehouse, a combination of sweat, man, and sandalwood. Intoxicating.

He felt incredible on top of me.

I still feel swollen and needy, and inhaling lungfuls of the man I want with every fiber of my being, my hand slips between my legs. Feeling the heat of his body next to me, hearing his breaths, the taste of him still in my mouth, it all makes me rub my sensitive clit in search of some kind of release.