An uninhibited Darby responded with a guttaral groan as Athena pressed her own advantage, his hand working to find more of her skin. He was ready for her; so ready. He'd been so for months and now seemed the ideal moment for him to take her to his room and to let their skin slide seductively against the other; to let them consumate their relationship.

He had her flipped over on the couch, his hand shoving at Drake again, and his mouth working harshly along her own neck as she suddenly told him to not be stupid.

He smirked.

"I think," he murmured, fingers tangling into her hair as he met her gaze, "that it's a bit too late for that. Hell, Ath," he bit his lower lip, his brow crinkling as he gave her a very intimate look, "let's go to my room and celebrate, yeah?"