“As chloroform.”
She bursts out laughing.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Weren’t you raised in the States?”
“Yes, why?”
“The saying is serious as a heart attack.”
I shrug. “A heart attack is your own body trying to kill you. Chloroform is what I’ll use to help kill anyone that hurts you from here on out.”
Chapter 15
Eve
Iyawn and stretch before opening my eyes. I hate mornings. Especially mornings like this. Luckily, they are few and far between. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I felt this bad. I drank too much last night, and my pounding head is a stark reminder that I’m not twenty anymore.
A large, heavy arm plops over my body, pinning me to the mattress, slinking around me, and tucking me close to its owner. My eyes shoot open, ready to fight my way free from whoever is holding me against my will. Except, when I find myself looking into Tate Grimm’s dark, chestnut eyes, I don’t want to push him away. I want to scoot closer.
“Morning, beautiful.” He strokes the side of my face and tucks a lock of unruly hair behind my ear. “How’d you sleep?”
Leaning on my forearm, I push myself up and glance around the unfamiliar room with more questions than answers.
“Um . . . are we in your room?”
“My room. My bed.” He smirks and kisses my forehead. “You weren’t too coherent after you threw up.”
“Threw up?” I’m mortified.
I pull the blanket down to look myself over. I’m overcome with embarrassment as I find myself swimming in an unfamiliar T-shirt and shorts, and I try to recall the events of the previous night. At least I’m clean. But I don’t have the slightest memory of getting out of my clothes and into Tate’s. If I had doubts when I first woke, I don’t anymore. I’m hungover.
“I bet you have a banging headache right about now.”
I don’t answer as I fight the wave of nausea threatening to give me a repeat performance of the lackluster excitement of the previous night. I close my eyes, working hard to keep whatever is still in my stomach right where it is.
“Why do I remember lying on the hood of a black sports car?” I ask, bringing my hand to my head, hoping to ease the pounding.
“You remember that, huh?” His lips curl upward, and I notice thin lines at the corners of his eyes as he smiles. While the lines hint that he’s aging, the smile makes him look like a teenager who just pulled one over on his parents.
“Vaguely.” I’m afraid he’s going to ask for details of what I do remember and offer to fill in the missing blanks. Blanks I’m not sure I want filled in. “Tate?” I say his name tentatively, afraid to hear the truth. “Did we have sex on the hood of your car?”
Eye to eye, he studies my face and remains silent long enough for me to feel self-conscious and uncomfortable. He holds the side of my head with his big hand and drags his thumb across my cheek.
