heated gaze lingers on me until he looks down, digging one of his keys into the bag. Bringing a small mound up to his mouth, he places it on his tongue. His eyes flit back to mine as he reaches for me, pulling me into a kiss.
Finally at her place, I park the car on the street, my hand still on her thigh. Her comment stings. The label never bothered me before, but hearing James describe me as just that makes me wonder if that’s all she sees me as. Someone who can get her off.
With her face revealed, her eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed, still pretending she’s barely conscious, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. When I try to sink back into her, her eyes fly open and she starts to fight me.
“Look at you,” he says, looking me up and down, his grip tightening around my wrists, the heat back in his hooded gaze. “So responsive, even when you pretend you don’t want it.”
jokingly after the photo is taken. I laugh. “It’s not called a soft launch if your face is in it,” I reply, busy studying the picture we just took. We look so good together. “Besides, you only soft launch someone you’re actually dating.”