We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) by Daisy Prescott Page A

sure Jason had been joking about finding Mrs. Roper in any way hot, but I guess I would find out.
    Fellow students as well as townies packed the bar. We definitely stood out like flamingos in our brightly colored polyester among all the jeans and plaid.
    The booths were full and tables overcrowded. I scanned the room for Jason, but couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of us through the crowd. Being short sucked in these situations. My current view consisted mostly of Gil’s back and the buttons of some random guy’s flannel.
    The crowd waiting at the bar counted five people deep around the stools. Dehydration while waiting for our drinks became a real probability. Sighing, I resigned myself I’d never find Jason.
    A warm hand grabbed my wrist and then long fingers interwove with mine. I glanced around at my friends—all hands were accounted for. The fingers tugged me backward, into flannel guy.
    I caught my balance and twisted to see Jason smiling at me over his shoulder as he pulled me through the crowd.
    Before I could question where he was taking me, he shouldered the backdoor open into a dim alley. He spun me around and pushed me against the cold bricks of the building.
    “I’ve been thinking about your mouth from the first day of class.”
    I gasped and his lips crashed into mine. Not hesitant. Not asking for permission. Claiming. Demanding. Owning.
    His hands framed my face, angling it to go deeper. This wasn’t bumbling exploration like high school. He used his tongue as a weapon to conquer me.
    My fingers clenched in his soft hair, pulling, tugging, tethering me to him. I wanted to claw at his skin, leave behind marks. I needed to feel his flesh between my teeth. I had to touch all of him. If I didn’t, I might have imploded from sexual frustration.
    The door we’d exited opened, spilling noise from the bar into the quiet. A guy dumped a bag into the dumpster across the alley. If he saw us, we didn’t shock him enough to comment.
    Jason ducked his head into my neck, gently nipping the exposed skin. “I like this dress.”
    His kiss had disarmed me. I’d completely forgotten what I was wearing.
    “Most guys had a thing for Chrissy or even Janet on Three’s Company, but I find the one guy who had the hots for Mrs. Roper.”
    “Maybe she didn’t wear anything else underneath for easy access.” His hands drifted to my hips and bunched the fabric, slowly lifting it high enough so he could reach skin. “Are you naked underneath this?”
    I didn’t need to answer him when his fingertips skimmed along the edge of my underwear.
    “Ah, too bad.” He traced the border between skin and lace.
    “They come off,” I stated the obvious in a breathy plea.
    “I imagine they do.” The tip of his finger slipped underneath the material.
    I stopped breathing for a moment, letting the sensation of his touch roll over my skin. I bit my lip to stop a moan from escaping my mouth when he pressed himself against me. That was no lip balm. Nor was it a pack of Lifesavers or quarters.
    I trailed my hands down his arms, examining the biceps I’d been fascinated with for two months. They were as hard and sculpted as I’d imagined. I’d spent hours, days, and weeks fantasizing about them. Now I was touching him. I almost pinched myself to make sure it was real, but losing contact with him would’ve been a bad idea.
    Leaving a trail of small, open kisses along my jaw, he found his way back to my mouth. His kisses became softer, longer. The pent up frustration left him. We fell into a rhythm. Our mouths, his hips, my hips, his fingers exploring me synched into a singular experience. My entire body hummed with building anticipation. My breasts ached to be touched. Everything clamored and screamed for attention from him. He was every boy band member rolled into one and my body acted like his adoring, screaming fan.
    Instead of waiting for him to read my mind, I placed his hand over my nipple, pressing his flesh into mine