No Tomorrow

His eyes shift to the bottle in my hand as if it’s a treasure. The line of his jaw clenches, his lust for the drugs invading the space between us. I’ve never been remotely addicted to anything but chocolate and ice cream, but I can guess how hard it is to stay away from something he craves badly.

I’m obviously failing at it myself.

“I’m so sorry, Evan. I totally understand.” Flustered, I shove the bottle into my purse and quickly zip it shut. “I had no idea. I apologize.” Leave it to me to wave drugs in front of a recovering addict.

“Don’t worry about it. I feel better now, just tired.”

“I’m glad.” Pinned by his intense stare, my pulse quickens, unsure if he now sees me as a source of pills or something else.

I smile nervously. “You must think I’m nuts, coming down here twice. I’m not a stalker. I promise.”

“No… I think you’re just a really good person.” He sets the bag of snacks down next to the lantern. “Way too good to be here with me.”

“That’s not tr—”

Without warning, his mouth is on mine, open and hot. Stumbling backward from the shock, I clutch the soft fabric of his flannel shirt as he grabs the back of my head and pulls my mouth harder against his. There’s not one hint of gentleness in his kiss. It’s raw, rough, and unapologetically demanding. When my lips part in an attempt to either moan or protest—I’m not sure which—his tongue invades my mouth, annihilating my words while he slowly slides his hand from the nape of my neck down to my waist. Those long fingers that move over the guitar strings so perfectly grip me so hard I’m sure I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

He backs me up until my spine slams against the cold stone wall, then pulls away, just far enough to stare down into my eyes but close enough that I can feel his breath against my face.

He edges his other hand up and closes it around my neck, the span of his huge palm covering my throat. My pulse thumps wildly against his grasp as I struggle to swallow. I’m paralyzed, not just because he’s got my throat in a chokehold, but because the undeniable flash of lust I see in his eyes is sending an army of white-hot electrifying tingles throughout my entire body. Warmth floods between my thighs despite the chill in the air. Closing his eyes, he lowers his head and slowly drags his nose across my cheek. He inhales deeply.

His voice is deep and husky when his mouth touches the corner of mine. “You should get out of here.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. “I don’t want to.”

Exhaling with a low rumble, he releases my throat. He clenches the back of my neck, threading his fingers through my hair. Using the tension of my hair in his grasp, he pulls my face toward his. My scalp stings with the tightening of his fingers, and he silences my gasp by filling my mouth with his tongue. The metal bar dings against my teeth on the way in. Trembling from head to toe with a dizzying mix of fear and desire, I grip his shoulders for stability—or maybe just to get my hands on him.

Leaning closer, he shoves his leg between mine, his jeans chafing against the flesh of my thighs as he pushes them apart. The cool night breeze travels up my skirt and sends a shiver through my limbs. I move my hand to his chest, but he quickly snatches it and pins it against the wall above our heads, locking his fingers into mine. He moves his leg up against my crotch, lifting me about a foot off the ground, bringing my lips level with his.

My entire being spins into a euphoric haze as he kisses me deeper. I lose the ability to think or breathe. I surrender to his touch and become mindless, boneless, thoughtless.

And in that moment, utterly regretless.

I don’t push this stranger away. I don’t say no. The sighs and whimpers that drift from my lips while his mouth devours me beg for more. My body and mind consent. I have no choice but to straddle his leg, and the pressure against my clit makes me want to rub all over him like a cat. Drowning in him, I gulp his breath into my lungs. He’s tobacco and mint-infused oxygen, resuscitating me.

Slowly lowering me to my feet, he moves his free hand to the hem of my skirt and lightly traces the edge of the material. The silver rings on his fingers are smooth and cold against my skin. He inches his hand beneath my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh hard enough to make me wince. I slip further down the rabbit hole when his finger languidly glides back and forth over the damp spot at the front of my panties, coaxing me, teasing me, luring me.