I’m turned sideways in the seat, with my knee up, so I’m facing her, even though she won’t look at me. I lost count of how many shots we had hours ago and I can barely comprehend how we got to a cab—stumbling, laughing, as she rubbed her hand up the front of my jeans. No, that can’t be right, can it?

“I think being alone is fan-fucking-tastic… well, maybe… sometimes…” I mumble, draping my arm on the back of the seat. I stare at her for a moment, taking in her bare skin in the moonlight. I want to touch it. Lick it. Even bite it.

I’m bursting with sexual energy and I channel it to my foot on the floor, bouncing my knee. There’s something different about tonight, something out of the ordinary, this strange need to keep getting closer to Lila. It could be the alcohol. Or it could be something else, but there’s no way my tequila-soaked mind is going to reach any sort of answer.

Lila turns her head toward me, her pupils wide and shiny. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

I keep tapping my foot on the floor, trying to think of a better answer than the first one that pops into my head, but I can’t find one. “Because I’m thinking about you.”

She glances at the cab driver, a thirtyish guy wearing a baseball cap, and then her gaze lands back on me. She sucks her lip into her teeth and I have to bounce my knee faster or I swear I’m going to fucking lose it. “Thinking what about me?” she asks, looking wary, interested, and exhausted.

Don’t say it… “I was thinking about what it would be like to lick you… or bite you… either one really.” It seems like I should regret it as soon as I say it, but regret is nowhere in my reach at the moment.

Her breathing quickens and her voice comes out shockingly unsteady for someone who has sex so much. “Then do it.”

I blink, wondering if I heard her right through the massive amount of alcohol consuming my thoughts. “What?”

She holds my gaze steadily, even though she seems really nervous, her voice trembling. “Then bite me. Or lick me… whatever you want.”

Every part of me is screaming not to do it, that I’m breaking my rules—rules I set for a reason. But desire and fucking tequila rampage the rational side of my mind. Drawn by a needy current, I lean forward, sweep her hair off her shoulder, keeping our eyes locked the entire time, and she quivers as my fingers brush her collarbone. When I reach the curve of her breast and trace a line above it, she bites her lip and groans. It’s way too much. My body feels like it’s going to combust. Before I can even acknowledge what I’m doing, I duck my head forward, slip my tongue out, and lick a path from her collarbone to the arch of her neck, grazing my teeth softly along the path.

“Oh God… Ethan.” She shivers, clutching her hands at her side. “That feels way too good.”

My eyes close and my breathing becomes ragged as I battle to pull back, keep my hands to myself, fearing that if I touch her, I’ll rip her clothes off right here in the back of the cab. And I can’t go there. It’s not the same as when I hook up with random women. I can feel a connection with Lila and sex will ruin it, especially when I bail out afterward.

“Lila…” I trail off as her hand glides up the front of my shorts. “I think…”

I bite down on the sensitive spot right below her ear, just above her neck, not enough to break the skin, but enough that her shoulder jerks upward, and my hands clamp down on her waist, my fingertips delving into the fabric of her dress.

“Do it again,” she whispers, breathless, her hand rubbing me hard. “Please.”

I remember how she told me she never begged, and suddenly all my doubts dissipate into the sea of alcohol swimming around in my head. I move my mouth upward to the tip of her earlobe, breathing hotly on her skin the entire way, and then I graze my teeth along her earlobe, slide my tongue out along it, and taste her just like I wanted to.

“Oh… my… God…” She releases a slow breath that’s echoed by a whimper, her chest curving forward and pressing against mine.

I’m a little stunned by how much she’s enjoying it and by how much I’m enjoying it, too, my moves fueled by an adrenaline surge and yearning in my body. I swear all the sexual tension inside me is pouring out in my motions. I’ve lost control. I place my hand on her bare leg and glide it up until it’s fully underneath her dress, her skin searingly hot against mine, and my fingers graze the edge of her panties. The warmth and wetness that I felt when she had the towel on is there and all I want to do is say fuck my rules, slip my fingers inside her, and lay her down on the seat.

“Shit, Lila…” I sound choked as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to decide what’s right and what’s wrong—what I need to do and what I want to do. “I think we should—”

The cab jerks to a stop and Lila and I quickly pull back, looking stunned. I’d seriously almost forgotten that we were in a cab. We’re at the entrance of her apartment, the lampposts lighting up the parking lot. It’s late, the neighborhood quiet, and the cab driver looks really pissed off.

“Jesus,” she whispers, blinking her eyes open, and then she aims her attention at the door. Her hand is still on my cock and my hand is still up her dress.

Reluctantly pulling my hand out from underneath her dress, she follows my lead, so we both have our hands to ourselves. I inch my legs out of the way so she can squeeze through and climb out, but she doesn’t budge, looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Her voice carries confidence, but her slackened posture and uneasy demeanor portray self-doubt and the doubt makes me hesitate.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” I say, torn between the good side of me and the bad, the drunken side and the sober side. Rules. No relationships. What am I doing? “It might not be a good idea… maybe…”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in horror and it surprises me. With all the flirting we’ve done and the guys Lila has slept with, I’d never expect her to look so hurt. And maybe that’s why I decide to do it. Or maybe I’m just really, really stupid, but somehow I find myself getting out of the cab with her.

After we pay, we run in a drunken stupor to her complex, laughing about God knows what. When we reach her door, she fumbles with her keys, until finally she gets it open. She trips over her own feet, laughing as my fingers fold around her waist, catching her before she falls.

“You’re a clumsy drunk,” I say as she stands up straight, steadying herself by clutching on to my shoulders.

“And you’re sexy when you’re drunk,” she says, biting her lip as she turns to face me.

My hands are still on her waist, my fingers gripping at her skin, wanting to feel more of it, but I’m still hesitating to take it any further. I know Lila—like really know her—and afterward, I’ll have to see her again. What if it changes things between us? Do I care? As soon as I think it, I realize I do care about her more than I want to admit. She knows more about me than anyone. Jesus, she really does. I’ve told her shit about my parents, my druggy past, and my future loner plans and she’s told me a lot of stuff about her and how her dad is verbally abusive and cheats on her mom all the time and her mom just accepts it. We know stuff about each other and I never even got that far with London.

Looking anxious and uncertain, Lila grips the front of my shirt and tugs me with her as she walks backward toward the hallway. Neither of us says anything. We don’t turn on the lights. We just breathe loudly with each step, our eyes fastened together as we move our legs in sync.

Minutes, or maybe seconds, later, we’re falling onto her bed. I brace myself with my arms, catching my weight so I don’t crush her, and she gazes up at me, not saying anything, just breathing, her chest brushing against mine with every inhale. I want her so damn bad and I know she can tell since my hard-on is pressed up against her hip. Unable to tolerate the tension anymore, I lower my mouth toward hers, ready to kiss her, but she turns her head at the last second and my lips brush against her cheek instead. At first it’s kind of weird, but then she slides her body upward, so her neck is in my face and I understand what she wants.

I press my lips to her skin, rolling my tongue out, and then drag my teeth gently across her neck as her hand finds the top of my shorts and she undoes the button and zipper. I shiver and groan as she grabs my cock and starts to rub me hard again. I bite down on her skin, maybe a little too roughly but she trembles with me, enjoying it, but she doesn’t moan, which is disappointing because the sound of it in the cab nearly drove me crazy in a good way. I want to make her moan so badly that it becomes the sole focus of my thoughts. Moving my body downward, I create a path of kisses and gentle bites, nibbling soft skin until I reach the top of her dress. Then I suck the curve of her breast as I reach up and slip one of the straps down her shoulder.

“You are so beautiful,” I mutter. The sight of her skin right there for me to taste is driving me fucking crazy and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be inside someone as much as I do right now. I’m about to yank her other strap down so I can get a full view of her breasts when I realize how still she’s gone. At first I think she’s passed out, but when I pull back, she’s just lying there motionless as she stares at the ceiling, fiddling with the platinum ring on her finger.

“Lila,” I say, trying not to worry over what it could mean. That maybe I’d misread her and she really wasn’t into this. Did I force her to do something? Shit. I didn’t even remember to ask if she wanted this.

“Yeah,” she answers numbly, without looking at me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounds as hollow as she looks. “Keep going.”

I blink at her, stunned, and then I sit up, disconnecting the fiery connection between our bodies. “Keep going? Are you even into this?” I try not to sound upset, but it shows through the unevenness in my voice.

She still doesn’t look at me, and when she speaks, her voice is flat. “Yeah, I want it.”

“You sure as hell don’t sound like you want it.” I climb off the bed and zip my shorts back up. “How wasted are you?”

She finally meets my eyes and I’m taken back by the emptiness in them. And it’s not because she’s drunk. She knows what’s going on, yet it looks like she feels nothing about it. As much as I hate to admit it, it stings, tears at my heart a little.

“I’m just going to go,” I say, backing toward the door, pissed off at myself for getting into this situation to begin with. I knew better than to go here with her and now I can’t take it back.

She sits up, the moonlight filtering through her window, illuminating her pale skin. Her eyes look black in the shadows. “If that’s what you want,” she says emotionlessly.

I have no idea how to take her right now. I could ask her questions, but we’re both drunk, and honestly the hurt inside me is intensifying. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” It’s all I say—all I can say at the moment because I have no idea what’s going on and I despise how freaked out I’m feeling over it.

I leave her in her room and she doesn’t chase after me. By the time I reach the curb, I’m chewing myself out for ever going there because I know there’s no way we can go back to what we were before. This is irrevocable.

Chapter Five

Lila

November is pretty much over and I’m running out of money and ways to escape the landlord. I know I need to get a job, but I’ve never worked before and I’m not qualified for any decent jobs. I guess I never really thought the whole being-on-your-own thing completely through. I feel like I’m standing at this fork in the road and both paths lead to places I don’t want to go. I could go backward, but I don’t want to go there either. My past is full of irreversible mistakes. I’m sure anyone who looked at me, when I was medicated anyway, wouldn’t think I had any problems. But I’m seriously considering breaking down and asking someone for help. Asking Ella. My sister even, although she can barely take care of herself. I even went as far as calling her, but she cut the call short, saying she had to go to work. I could hear her son crying in the background, the one I’ve met only once because I moved away and haven’t been back to California since. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, the conversation is causal and rushed because she’s always too overwhelmed with bills or her job as a waitress.