Love Me Crazy by Camden Leigh

volleyball.
    “Cassidy! Are you okay?” Kat grabs my hand.
    Wes grabs the other and they try to right me, but the chair has my knees up, my dress down around my hips and my brain teetering on the edge of giving up. It’d be easier just to pass out and regain my pride tomorrow.
    Quinn grabs the chair arms and hoists me and the chair to our feet. He puts his hand to my cheek. “You okay?”
    “So drunk I didn’t feel a thing,” I lie. I rub my head and wince when I find a lump.
    “Come on, I’ll get you some ice.”
    Instead of letting me follow, he cradles me in his arms and carries me from the dining room. He sets me on the counter in the dark kitchen and opens the freezer.
    He pulls out an ice pack, massages it, then holds it against the back of my head. “Party’s over?”
    “For me. You go ahead. You were on a winning streak.” Him and everyone else.
    “I’m winning right here.” He spreads my knees apart.
    I push my dress down between my thighs to hide my lack of undergarments. His lips push up on one side and I try not to look. Try not to enjoy how tempting they are. He leans between them and reaches his arm around me to hold the icepack to my head. I’m about to take it and hold it between my legs, because, oh my God, he’s making me hot. Making me think about doing deliciously bad things. Such as how I’d like to lick him like the popsicle I saw in the freezer.
    He goes out of his way to hold the ice pack to my lump and leans toward me until our faces are a breath apart. Six inches of empty space I’d like to fill with him but don’t see any way in hell why that should, would, or could happen. Especially after what we did on the patio.
    Another instance of reckless abandon like that and he’s liable to expect more than I’m willing to give. Besides the fact I’m seeing three of him, there’s his ex who obviously has an agenda, and, the bigger reason, his mom. Workplace ethics, my ass. She set me up for failure making me stay here.
    “ Feeling better?”
    “It’s a start.” I lower my gaze to his lips. The ones that kissed me so tenderly under the magnolia, glisten as he sweeps his tongue across them. I sigh and catch myself mirroring his motions, licking my own lips and leaning closer.
    His arms wrap around me tighter, squeezing me against him, melding us together. His lips part, allowing my tongue to meet his. They collide and twist around each other, much like the brambles on his arm.
    My hand reaches for his waist. He pulls me to the edge of the counter. I draw in toward his hips, wanting nothing between us, no more obscurity, no more guessing. And no more damn clothes.
    He moans, pressing hard against me. I reach back, leaning into my elbow to compensate for his demanding craving, skin heating from his, head freezing from the icepack he still holds in place. He turns his head. His hurried breaths sound in my ear.
    “I don’t think you should stay alone tonight,” he whispers.
    “Right. I might have a concussion. I probably should . . .”
    He nods, rolling his head against mine as if he’s trying to hold back, forcing himself to keep his lips off me. “Stay with me.”
    “Is that on doctor’s orders?”
    He glances behind him at the door and my heart lands in my feet like a solid block of ice. The thought of being discovered weighing on my mind, but the liquor I’ve consumed delays my ability to fully think through the consequences.
    He scoops me up like before and pushes through the kitchen door. He mounts the first step.
    “ Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
But convince me we should.
    “Specify.” He takes several more steps. “Because that kiss was pretty intense and I’m about due for another. You?”
    “Or something,” I mutter as the icepack slips and hits the floor, because I’m so ready, but not about to admit it.
    He sets me on my feet and I reach down to pick it up.
    He tugs me around and into him, pinning my hand behind my back. “This isn’t a bad idea.”