“I’m sorry,” she said. I shook my head and grabbed her face, cupping her cheeks in my hands. I didn’t want an apology. I wanted more. I kissed her hard and pressed my body against hers. She didn’t fight me. She melted against me and sighed into my mouth.
It was alcohol driven. She wasn’t thinking straight. I was a bastard for taking advantage of it, but I wanted her and she was offering. I pressed myself against her and she gasped. She knew what was going on in my pants. I didn’t gyrate against her the way I wanted to, make her feel what she was doing to me, what I wanted.
She pulled away from me, something serious in her eyes. This was where I had to stop, walk away. She was too good for me.
I was too stubborn for my own good.
I wasn’t sure how we got from the club to her apartment. I
