“Now I realize that you being drunk, is you opening a window into your head. And even though you’re giving your thoughts freely—thoughts that my ego is absolutely loving, by the way—I don’t feel comfortable with you sharing them.”
Now I’m sure of it. The tip of his nose brushed mine. And his breath iswarm against my mouth. He’sdefinitelytoo close. And I’m loving every second of it.
“Why?”
The corner of his lips tilts up. “Because you wouldn’t want to share those thoughts if you weren’t drunk. In fact, if you remember any of this tomorrow, you’ll be absolutely mortified.”
I will. But I can’t help it.
“Does your ego need a reality check?” I whisper, my eyes drifting to his lips for a second. “Because I can tell you all the things I hate about you too…”
I feel the small puffs of air against my skin as he laughs silently. When he doesn’t stop me, I start talking again.
“I hate when you go all alpha caveman all the time,” I say, my voice too high pitched and a little slurry. “And I hate that because of you I feel so ugly and dumb and insecure.”
His throat bobs and jaw ticks once. Twice.
“I hate that you didn’t tell me you knew Douchebag Ortega when you asked me about him. I hate that the more time I spend with you the more time I want to. I hate that it’s my fault you and Jack—”
“It’s not.” He interrupts so quickly it sounds like he forgot to take a breath.
“It is.”
“No, it’s not. And my ego is fine, now, thank you.”
“I wasn’t done,” I breathe and he chuckles, shaking his head slowly and our nose brushing each time.
“I bet.”
We’re too close. And I can’t seem to find the strength to push him away. Both of his hands are placed on the counter, right next to my thighs, caging me in. I lift the mug tentatively to my lips and he pulls away just enough so I don’t hit his nose with it.
“Do you want to hear all the things I hate about me?” He asks, stepping just a little closer so his hips are touching the inside of my knees. “Because I’m sure I hate me more than you do, sweetness.”
My hands drop a little, bringing the warm mug against my stomach. I stare into his bottomless blue pools and I’m surprised with all the pain I see there.
“I hate that you have reasons to hate me,” he says softly when I don’t stop him. “I hate that my actions caused your insecurities, because from the moment I met you, I’ve thought you were perfect. I hate that I’ve been a coward then and that I still am now. I hate that I want you so much,wantedyou so much even back then that I couldn’t think straight but never had the guts to tell Jack about it. And I hate that I’m only brave enough to admit this because you’re drunk and there’s a good chance you won’t remember tomorrow.”
He stops then and I can’t look away from the raw honesty I see on his face. The pain and longing in his eyes.
“It’s forbidden,” is the only thing I manage to whisper back.
“Yeah, but what if itwasn’t?” He whispers back, his mouth inches away from mine. “What if I took the chance and said to hell with the possible consequences, would you hate me for it? Because I can’t stand it. I can’t stand to look at you when all is fine and then see the flicker of it when you remember that it’s my fucking fault you felt like trash.”
“I don’t hate you,” I breathe.
“Would you, then? If I decided to ignore the consequences?”
I’m not sure if I’m breathing too much or not enough, but my chest is rising and falling rapidly and I’m still out of breath. My head is swirling again—although,thatmight be the alcohol.
“I don’t think so,” I breathe out honestly, eyes fixed on his lips. Is he going to kiss me? Oh god, I want him to. Why am I so hot?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but it hitches again when I feel his forehead against my own.
“Yeah?”
I tilt my head to the side, sliding my nose along his cheekbone, his jaw, and stop just above that magical dimple of his. My brain doesn’t have the time to process what my lips are doing before I kiss the area that hollows when he smiles. I feel him shift, his arms tensing on the outside of my thigh, and a shiver raking over him when I move my lips a couple of times.
“Yes,” I finally say, bringing my forehead back where it was, rubbing my nose softly against his.
