“Babe… Babe, I’m trying to concentrate,” I groan, both in frustration and in lust.

You and I met not even 2 hours ago, but I can already tell this connection runs deep. But, again, that could be lingering alcohol or weed in my system. I know I’m being stupid right now, but I also can’t find a reason to care. Not when I’ve got the most stunning girl’s lips attached to my neck right now.

Tonight was another after party for another thing I couldn’t bother to remember, I only came for a good time. Check. I was at the bar—the usual—when I spotted you out on the dance floor. You were with some friends, I presume, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And my feet couldn’t help but bring me closer to you. Suddenly, I found myself glued right up behind you, dancing.

And I don’t dance.

One thing led to another, as so many things do, and here we are. Call me a playboy, or a womanizer, I don’t care. I like to have a good time. And that’s exactly what I plan on having tonight with you.

My foot presses harder down onto the gas pedal, a dangerous move. The combination of my slight inebriation, the distraction that is you, and the pouring rain outside makes this slightly exhilarating.

“Jesus, babe… You keep going that and we’re never making it to the hotel,” I murmur, feeling your teeth graze my earlobe. I chance a quick peek over at you, seeing your body practically slung over the center console.

It’s like you could care less if we crash.