Justin's POV
Her kiss was messy, uncoordinated, fueled by whatever storm was raging inside her. She tasted like alcohol and something sweeter underneath—something uniquely her.
She needed this. Needed me to erase something, to drown her in something else. And fuck, if I wasn't already halfway gone myself.
Her fingers tugged at my hair, nails scraping against my scalp as she moved against me, rolling her hips in a way that made my blood heat. My hands found her waist, fingers pressing into her soft flesh as I tried to steady her, but she only arched into me, as if she wanted more.
"June," I murmured against her lips, but she just kissed me harder, swallowing my voice.
I should stop this.
She was drunk, raw, emotional.
But then she whispered against my lips, "Don't stop. Please."
And I was fucking weak when it came to her.
