𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐒𝐢𝐱|Drunken Antics

I can't even tell her that I hate her without feeling like I'm lying to her and myself. My feelings for her isn't just some stupid crush that I was hoping to get over. It's more. Way fucking more.

The thought alone terrifies me. Only because I know that River deserves better. I want to become the man that she deserves. No man is worthy enough for her. Not even me.

I wanted to fuck and ruin her for anyone else. I wanted to crush her wings and then put them back together again so she'd become dependent on me. I wanted her to need me.

That dark, possessive and dangerous feeling crawled through me every time she crossed my path. River Arccadi was my vice and fuck if I'd let that kill me.

I'm crazy about her. She's makes me crazy about her.

"Let's get drunk." River says, turning her head to me with a grin on her face.

"It's late, Riv." I sigh and press the button for the elevator.

"But the mission is over and I wanna have fun." She groans, walking into the elevator when the doors open.

"No means no." I say, walking in after her.

"Do you have a bedtime or some shit? Loosen up a little, old man." She says, rolling her eyes.

I lean off the wall and stalk over to her, locking eyes with her. I smirk when she visibly gulps as I dip my head down to her eye level. I pick a piece of lint of her dress and place my hand on her lower back, pushing her to my chest.

"No means no." I repeat, my voice low.

"Loosen up means loosen up." She says, her tone the same as mine.

"Why are you so stubborn?" I ask her quietly.

"Because I'm always right." She shrugs her shoulders, leaning back against the elevator doors.

It's like asking for death if you were to argue with this woman.

I hum and brush my  lips over hers. Her breath hitches and I smirk. Fire sparks within her blue eyes as they drift down to my lips.

I step back when the elevator doors open and I take in the sight of her flushed cheeks. She exhales a deep breath as soon as I step foot outside of the elevator and smirk, loving the way her body reacts to my touch.

"We're still drinking." She says, walking beside me. One drink won't hurt.

xXx

One drink turned into two. Two turned into three. Three turned into shots of vodka. The shots of vodka turned into a whole bottle of whiskey.

In conclusion, I can smell fucking colours and I'm pretty sure the room is spinning. Or maybe I am.

I'm never drinking with her again.