Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“Don’t cry,” she whispers.
“I don’t cry.”
I put a smile on my face and finally raise my eyes, running my hand
through my hair. A cool sweat dampens my back, and I slide my hands into
my jean shorts pockets, watching her eyes drop for a moment to my cleavage
that disappears down my loose tank top.
My skin pricks.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
I’m so confused, I don’t know where to begin.
“Then, what’s good?” she teases.
A laugh escapes me, and I lean against the wall of the restaurant again,
relaxing.
Coming in close, she touches my face with her free hand and my heart
skips, closing my eyes and liking it more than I want to. I’m a little
vulnerable right now, and I’m kind of tempted to forget that she’s an
authority figure. Even if she is only a year or so older than me.
“So busy collecting stones.” She tsks. “You’re missing the diamonds.”
Tears well again, and I know she’s right. I have so many people who love
me, and I’m whining.
“I just want to share joy with someone,” my breathing shakes as tears
spill through my closed eyes. “I don’t want to be alone in everything I do.
Fuck…”
School. Home. Work. The theater. There’s always opposition, and I’m
rarely the one in control.
“No one is on my side,” I whisper, meeting her eyes.
It only lasts the span of a breath, but she holds my gaze and I stop
breathing, her blonde hair and blue eyes the only thing I see before she’s on
me. Her mouth melts into mine, and I only hesitate a moment before I slide
my arms around her.
God…
I grip her slim waist, pressing my body into hers, and her groan vibrates
down my throat as I squeeze my eyes shut and taste the heat on her breath.
Intoxicated.
Or would you wish I was in your room instead? A voice carries me away.
Taking her face in one hand, I spin her around and back her into the wall,
her long, silky hair draping down her back, across to tickle my other hand.