“You shouldn’t be here, Hana.”
She shrugs, her dimples peeping up at me. I can’t help but notice she doesn’t move away. Instead, she bears down gently on my thigh, as if she’s making her pussy goddamned comfortable on me and it’s no big deal.
“Does that make me a bad girl?” It’s cute, the way she tries to talk dirty. She blushes and then she laughs because she knows she sounds funny, too. It’s like one of those bad pun games that get funnier the drunker you get.
“No.” I tuck her more tightly against me and push my thigh slowly up. She’s wet and I need to find out if it’s for me.
“You’re looking at me.” She sounds breathless. It matches how I feel inside, which is really unacceptable.
“Yes.” I run my finger down that smooth curve of skin, from her ear to her collarbone. “I am. You don’t belong here. I didn’t ask you.”
“Sometimes I like to break the rules, Liam.”
My dick throbs from its contact with her and my bastard side wants to shove her dress up and show her what happens to bad girls when they trespass in my kingdom. I’m just drunk enough that it seems like a good plan.
Instead, I offer her the bourbon bottle. “Drink?”
Her fingers close over mine, guiding the bottle to her mouth.
“Are you corrupting me?” she asks when she comes up for air.
“Don’t tell your brother.”
Jax would kill me if I debauched his sister. Warm brown eyes assess me, as if she sees someone entirely different than I do when I look in the mirror. She’ll be disappointed when she learns the truth.
“Are you okay?”
Not really, but I don’t talk about it. Not ever.
I press my lips against her throat instead. She’s mouthwatering, too sweet for a man like me. If I’d ever thought about this darling off-limits girl, I’d have imagined her doing it missionary style in a bed, on her back, her arms wrapped around her lover with candles or mood music to set the scene. Boring stuff.
I let her go. Or try. My free hand slides down her arm, my fingers tangling with hers. The shock of pleasure is unexpected but addictive, as are the words that fly out of my mouth. “Ride with me.”
Fuck, I’ll hate myself in the morning.
She lets me pull her toward the Ferris wheel, but apprehension flashes across her pretty face for the first time. “Am I safe with you, Liam?”
“Always.” Right then, I mean it. I won’t do anything to hurt her, not permanently, or so I think. I lie when I’m under the influence, too.
Hana is just so very Hana. I haven’t spent all that much time with her because she’s Jax’s little sister, five years younger than me. I double-check mentally once more just to make sure. She’s old enough, although it’s probably alcohol math doing those sums. But I’ve always liked her, the way you like dogs and cats, distant family members, and the Starbucks barista who pretends to be interested in your life. She’s one of those super nice people who smiles a lot and never says shit about anyone. Frankly, she’s too nice for her own good and Jax worries about her.
I would, too, if she were mine.
Her gaze bounces from couple to couple, amusement and arousal crossing her expressive face as she realizes what they’ve been doing on the Ferris wheel. She’s smart. She immediately flashes ahead to thinking about what we could do to each other. I look at her big eyes and I know I’m going to show her more. I’m a bastard, but she either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. Maybe she’ll blame the bourbon, too.
When we board, she curls up on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck as if I’m safety net enough. The carny running the ride shrugs and adjusts the safety bar, putting the belt around the two of us. I’m sure he’s seen it all tonight and I don’t feel like letting go anyhow.
The wheel shoots into motion and Hana shrieks. She’s a curvy girl, sweet and hot on my lap, and I’ll fucking hold on to her to the moon and back so she doesn’t need to worry about falling off or getting hurt that way. I don’t deserve this chance, but consequences are for tomorrow and time skips faster and faster.
Skip.
Hana squeals as the wheel reaches its zenith and then plummets downward. Her arms tighten around my neck, her thighs gripping my waist. This was the best worst idea ever.
Skip.
Skip.
We skim over the ground, my circus, the carnies, the whole party a drunken blur of lights and watchers. Hana’s fingers dig into my hair, pulling my face toward hers, and I kiss her. I’ve never been so aroused, so turned on for another person’s touch before. My thumbs trace her cheeks and those damned dimples, holding her in place for my kiss.
She trembles in my arms, all heat and need, and of course I’m lost. This is bad, even for me. This is the ultimate line and I’m throwing myself across it. I open my mouth and cover hers, erasing the distance between us. Her lips are softly submissive, parting when my tongue presses for entry. I make a rough sound and she sighs, her tongue stroking gently against mine. Too soft, too easy. I kiss her harder, deeper, angling her head so I can take all of her. She lets me, her hands pulling at my hair as she meets each slide of my tongue with hers, answering my groans with needy sounds of her own.
Skip.
Skip skip...
I’ve pushed her skirt up around her waist and lean back to see panties. They’re pink and lacy and I can’t look away as I touch between her legs for the first time. Her surprised gasps and greedy moans drive me crazy. She’s all I can think about as I shove her panties to the side and push a finger into her. She’s hot and tight, then hot and yielding as she makes room for me inside her.
“Is this what you want, Hana?”
“Yes.” Her hands pull at my shoulders as she licks and bites at my throat for punctuation.
“Good girl.” I add a second finger, testing her reaction, and she moans louder. This is what I love, the feeling of being in control, of pushing her body higher, faster, tighter. I circle her clit slowly, teasing her, and am rewarded with another moan.
How drunk is she? Probably too drunk. It feels like we’re flying, so I hold her extra tight as we swoop down from the top and the ground soars up to meet us. It’s not free fall, but it’s close.
Hana murmurs something, startled. I nip her bottom lip, tasting the alcohol on her mouth. I’m drunk-slow or maybe that’s just the Ferris wheel gliding to a halt.
“Get me down now.” She buries her face in my throat, which means I can’t kiss her anymore. “God, I’d marry you if you just got me down.”
“Deal,” I growl, my voice bourbon-rough.