30. Brick

Dammit. I didn’t want to be left here alone with Camille right now. We needed to actually be alone-alone the next time I was alone with her, not surrounded-by-hundreds-of-people alone because I had a very bad feeling I wasn’t going to get through this encounter without wanting to mount her.

Okay, fine. I already wanted to mount her. But the urge was going to get worse before the end of this conversation; I already knew it.

Glancing briefly over my shoulder, I remained cool as I asked, “What’s it to you, grandma’s girl?”

Then I skimmed my gaze down to her Mary Janes so I could take in her ankle where I could spot that tattoo that I now knew said grandma’s girl on it.

My body instantly tightened with need. God, but how had I gone three weeks without her already?

Remembering how I’d licked and nibbled on the patch of skin housing her ink, I ignored the craving that tensed my muscles, and I sipped on my drink, even though the alcohol was gone, and I was basically just swallowing melte