Fuck. I needed another drink. I needed space. I needed a new game plan. I needed a fucking life. And I really needed to get over my obsession. But I knew it wasn't going to happen. I could still taste nicotine and sugar kisses on my tongue, still feel warm skin under my nails, still hear breathless moans against my lips. Dangerous and addictive and so completely fucking wrong. I couldn't bring myself to care. Elijah's tiny kitchen was deserted, but I could hear mingled laughter from the back deck. Seemed that the party had migrated outside. I knew I should join in, try to forget, try to erase the image of Sean's hands inching under Orlando's shirt, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. I also knew he'd come to find me. He always did. I poured myself a very healthy glass of Stoli, and downed the lot in one long swallow. The vodka burned like smooth acid down my throat, but didn't erase memories, images, broken dreams of another life, of a time when he was mine. Before the lies, the subterfuge, before assignations in public places where we had to watch every word, every gesture. Before I fucked it up. Before the games. I leaned against the counter, poured another large shot, and waited. He'd show. It was just a matter of tearing himself away from intoxicating lips and passion in unforgettable eyes. But, somehow, we always found each other. No matter how dangerous, how wrong...and this was starting to skate into obscenely treacherous territory. We were going to get caught. It was inevitable. And worth the risk. "Portrait of the brooding artist. It's a good look for you." Speak of the proverbial devil... I glanced up, watched Orlando stroll into the kitchen, all lean grace and sensuous movements, radiating raw sex and heat. Baggy jeans did nothing to conceal the slender hips underneath, and I wondered what they would feel like under my hands -- bare and slick with sweat as I drove deep inside tight flesh. Not the time. Not the place. Keep repeating it. I smiled slowly into Orlando's dark eyes. "Just admiring," I finally said, eyes lingering on the patch of tanned skin just above Orlando's t-shirt collar. "Admiration's good," Orlando replied, his own gaze raking over me -- hot, thorough, appreciative. "Mutual admiration's better." He grinned, showing a glimpse of perfect teeth. "Wouldn't you agree?" Dangerous. Oh yes. He exuded it. Danger, passion, possibilities. I sucked in my breath when he flashed me a small wink and leaned past me to reach for the open bottle of Cuervo, chest barely brushing my arm. Fuck the consequences, give it to the now. So easy to get caught up in his spell, so easy to forget about his new lover, waiting for him in the darkened living room. Orlando dropped a few ice cubes into his glass, fingers slick with moisture. "Wicked hot tonight, innit?" he asked, his damp hand rubbing across that deliciously bared throat, small droplets of water clinging to warm skin. "Wicked hot." I barely recognized my own voice. I barely recognized myself. The game had just kicked up a level. I turned, pressed him into the counter, my hands finally on those intoxicating hips. Fuck the vodka. "No relief in sight." My words vibrated along the warm skin of Orlando's neck. Full lips parted slightly and a pink tongue darted out, licked along the ridge of even, white teeth. "I could give you relief," he murmured in my ear, rubbing against my chest with his own, the movement lithe and potent. I shuddered, pulled him closer -- a reminder -- taking it a step further. Wanted to push, wanted to break. No more secrets, no more lies. "Can you?" I managed to get out, each word rasped along his puckered skin. My own skin was on fire, blood humming, mind whirling. Dangerous. Needed to keep my wits about me, remember where I was, what I was doing. Needed to fucking think. "Yeah, I could." Orlando ran a finger along the buttons of my shirt, peering at me through lowered lashes -- and I lost my breath again at the invitation. "I should get back," he murmured, tongue darting between his lips once again. I reached up, rubbed his moist lips with the pad of my fingers, hips and groins tantalizingly close. "I think you should stay here." His smile tempted, beckoned me with promises of sex and sin. "You think so?" "Yeah." I leaned forward another inch, my own lips hovering just over his, chests pressed tightly together, felt muscle and a pounding heartbeat. "I do." Dark eyes flashed with amusement, and Orlando stepped aside, out of the loose circle of my arms. "You think it'll work?" he asked, his voice a soft purr, fingers tracing a pattern in the condensation on his glass. My gaze was riveted to the curve of his lips when he raised his hand, rubbed the moisture across the fullness of them. "What?" "Fucking me." And hearing those words roll, so grotesquely beautiful, out of that pretty mouth, was the most erotic thing I'd ever heard. "Fucking you?" "Yes." He leaned forward, pretty brown eyes seeking mine in the dim light. "You think that by fucking me you'll be fucking Sean. You think it'll work?" "I don't..." He waved off my feeble protest with a shake of his head. "You can't fuck Sean by proxy." "Sure, I can." I ran a finger along Orlando's neck, felt his small shudder. And grinned. "Watch me." "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Orlando asked, a secret smile flitting across those too-perfect lips. "Taking me from him, proving that I don't deserve him. Or, maybe..." And he stepped in closer, eyes closing as his hot breath skimmed my ear. "You'd like to watch us." Broken dream images floated across my mind, gaining shape and substance. No, I didn't want them together. I was only here for Sean. Just Sean...just... "Would you like that?" Orlando continued, lips tracing a path along my neck, and I shivered, hands clenched into tight fists. He wasn't going to turn the tables on me...I wouldn't let him. His tongue lapped along sensitive skin, and it took everything I had to remain still. "Watching me give him pleasure, hearing those sweet little cries I can wring from him," he murmured, breathing a tainted picture of sin and seduction along my jaw. "Bet you want to know if he moans for me the way he did for you, if he looks the same when he comes for me." And each word hammered into my skull, my brain until I could see nothing else. Just Orlando and Sean and limbs and tangled kisses and perfect grace. "Orlando..." Blindly, my lips sought his -- and I blinked when he stepped back, taking all of that lovely heat and promise with him. "You're so fucking pathetic," he stated, eyes now open, stepping back. And the mixture of pity and loathing in them floored me. "No wonder he left you." "He'll leave you, too." I was shaking too badly to think of anything else to say. "Maybe, maybe not. But, I'll tell you this." And he stepped back into my personal space, but this time he wasn't seductive. This time it was a warning. "If you keep fucking with him, with his happiness, I will personally bury you. He's worth far more than you could ever give him." On that, we agreed. Sean was worth more than the world. As for the rest... "Are you threatening me, boy?" "Yes, I am." Orlando's smile was ice-cold and just as sharp, as he plucked his glass from the counter, gave me a small, mocking salute with it. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." I stared at the space where he'd been long after he'd swept from the room. That hadn't gone precisely as planned. Seemed there was more to the pretty Orlando than met the eye. But all the warnings in the world wouldn't stop me. I was here. I was going to get Sean back, one way or another. Orlando would just have to get over it.
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