Chapter 2
I dragged him by the hand, slammed my apartment door shut behind us, went up on my tiptoes, and kissed him.
His entire body went rigid for a split second, but he didn't push me away.
His lips were cool and tasted faintly of sharp winter mint.
I kissed him clumsily, driven entirely by a reckless, self-destructive impulse.
He seemed genuinely caught off guard at first. I felt the hard swallow of his Adam's apple against my chin. But a heartbeat later, the hand resting on my waist tightened like a vice. He tilted his head, took complete control, and deepened the kiss.
It was nothing like the gentle, teasing vibe he had given off in the hallway. This kiss was hungry. It was demanding, ruthless, and entirely possessive.
He backed me up until my spine hit the cold wood of the front door. The icy draft from the hallway clashed violently with the burning, feverish heat of his body pressing flush against mine. Sparks exploded behind my eyelids.
Alcohol is a lethal catalyst. It burned away every last shred of my inhibition and logic, leaving nothing but raw, primal instinct.
Everything after that blurred into a hazy, dizzying fever dream.
I vaguely remember the soft pop of his shirt buttons giving way. I remember the sound of his heavy breathing hot against my ear. I remember him groaning my name. His voice was so hoarse that it sent shivers down my spine.
And I remember kissing him back with a desperate, clumsy heat. I took years of pent-up longing, years of agonizing fantasies about someone else, and poured every last drop of it into this beautiful stranger.
I lost track of time. Exhaustion weighed heavy on my eyelids, and I lay limp against the tangled sheets, cocooned in his arms. His long fingers idly twined through my hair. He felt incredibly, wonderfully real.
Right on cue, my cell phone started vibrating violently on the hardwood floor. Through the dim light, I could see Oscar's name flashing aggressively on the screen.
Still half-drunk and riding a post-coital high, I fumbled over the edge of the mattress, grabbed the phone, and blindly swiped answer. I even managed to hit the speakerphone button.
"Hello?" I murmured. My voice came out low and husky.
"Claire," Oscar shouted. His booming voice blasted through the speaker, dripping with his signature smug, prankster laugh. "Well? How'd you like my big surprise? Was it a blast? Didn't see that coming, did you? Told you it'd be unforgettable."
I rolled onto my side, pressing my cheek flush against the warm, solid wall of the stranger's chest. I listened to the steady, rhythmic thud of his heartbeat, my fingertips lazily drawing circles over the sharp ridges of his abs.
"It was so much fun," I purred, my eyes fluttering shut in absolute satisfaction. My voice was sweet. "Thank you for the amazing gift, Oscar."
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Two seconds passed. Then, Oscar's voice skyrocketed an entire octave, cracking with sheer disbelief. "Claire? Are you seriously that obsessed with me? You're actually thrilled about a literal box of dog shit? Did the wine melt your brain?"
Dog shit?
My eyes snapped open. I frowned, the haze instantly clearing. I tilted my head back and looked up at the man I had just "unwrapped."
He was already looking down at me, his deep eyes swirling with an entirely unreadable complexity. He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to explain.
But my attention was abruptly seized by what Oscar said next.
Oscar's tone shifted from shocked to downright hostile. "Wait, Claire. That voice... Is someone in the room with you? Are you secretly fucking some random guy right now?"
"You sent him," I argued, feeling suddenly very defensive and a little wronged. "You sent me the gift, so obviously I accepted it..."
Before I could finish the sentence, a warm hand cupped my jaw, and a mouth crashed down on mine, swallowing my words. All I could manage was a muffled, breathy moan. The phone slipped from my fingers, landing face-up on the mattress.
Oscar was still on the line, forced to listen to every sound of our lovemaking.