“Thank you.”

“It’s a lot longer wet. I guess because the curls are stretched out. No more bungee jumping.” He scraped the comb through the top of her head with his right hand while his left hand dug into the back, raking his fingers through the wet strands.

The touch made her insides melt. It felt charged somehow. “I thought you had a foot fetish? What’s with the scalp love?”

“I think I may be developing a taste for wet curls, too.” He placed the comb on the coffee table but did not remove his left hand from her hair. Soon his right hand joined in the party, lightly fingering the wet ends. “I think I’m done combing,” he murmured. He leaned closer and brushed his face in her hair.

“Nadim?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you coming on to me?”

“Maybe.” He leaned even closer, his warm breath tickling her neck. It was getting harder to breathe in her living room.

“I …” She shuddered as he pushed her hair to one side. What were they talking about?

He dipped his head and soft lips starting to graze her sensitized skin. Barely making contact, but with a promise of so much more.

Reena’s internal alert system blared: Mayday! He was going to kiss her neck. And if he did that, her asshole libido would let him, and she would lean into him and turn around, and then there would be kissing and writhing and clothes thrown to the floor, and she was pretty sure there were unexpired condoms in her bathroom, but maybe they could go to his place because his bed was better, even though it was technically her bed and … ungh. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

There were thousands of valid reasons not to do this. And maybe just as many to do it. But with lips on her neck, it was hard to weigh the pros and cons right now.

Her upper body reclined on him as one of his hands moved to her hip and the other gently pushed her shoulder down to expose more of her neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked gently, turning her spine to goo.

His mouth was on her with intention. Maybe she was just imagining it, but there was a deliberateness in his actions. It had been months since she’d been touched by a man. Even longer since she’d felt completely wanted. Not just the convenient girl, not the party girl. She was the one he wanted to be with right now. It was her neck he wanted to kiss, her hair he wanted his hands in.

That thought was more intoxicating than the bourbon in her tea, so she let her brain turn off. Let it not worry about what a terrible idea this was. It didn’t matter. All that mattered were those soft lips closing the circuit that had been open since they met.

Somehow she ended up facing him. Legs draped over his, his hand still on her hip and his lips still feasting on her neck. Her chin. Her cheek.