Gin Martinis

Sera

“Faster,” I panted, my head pressed against the headrest as the lights of downtown Philly sped past me in a blur. Killian’s hand gripped my thigh, his fingers so achingly close to where I needed them to be.

I definitely felt those four dry martinis I’d guzzled down like water at the club. My mind swam on a turbulent tidal wave as his car hurtled toward home.

Home.

That mysterious behemoth of a mansion was the only home I had now. All the buzz from the alcohol left me as I realized I could never go back to the way things were before, not now that I knew the truth.

“Killian.” His palm warmed my skin. Despite everything, my body reacted to his proximity. Hitching my skirt up higher, I exposed my thighs. His gaze locked on the thin sliver of wet lace banding my crotch. Was it the alcohol making me feel this way or the memory of his fingers on my skin?

“Keep your dress on.” The smoke in his voice cut through my drunken thoughts.

“Touch me,” I pleaded, but he only squeezed my thigh. I