them.
Alec stood, walked over to his suitcase, and pulled out a three-quarters-full bottle of vodka. It must have been what he was using to fill his flask.
“No, we’re not.” He smiled. “Also, I think I know where we can get some ice and mixers.”
She managed to smile back, but her face was on fire, and the hairs at the back of her neck poked out like needles. That room, the feeling of him rocking inside her when they were in that room, was all she could see.
“Not Coke,” she replied quickly.
He laughed.
“I’m seriously never going to like Coke.”
“I did my best.” He fluttered his eyelashes.
That brought a laugh from her. “Pretty sad even that couldn’t flip me.”
He paused, straightened his shoulders, and finally cleared his throat. “Does this mean we’re talking about it? Because I don’t know about you, but I’d really like to.”
She tried to breathe. He wants to talk about it? Maybe she’d had him all wrong. Maybe he was the guy who wanted to cuddle and murmur into her hair. Crap, why can’t I stop thinking about that?
“I guess,” she said, needing to say something.
“I’m not going to get crazy on you or anything, but I always talk to you about the women I’m with. What happened between us shouldn’t change that.”
She understood what he was doing, but in that moment she didn’t care. She wanted to relive it with him. God knew she’d be reliving it with herself nightly, and whenever she had the time to take a bath.
“Okay.” She reached out for the bottle, needing a little liquid courage.
He headed to the bed and handed it over, taking a spot beside her. He sat back against the headboard and laid his black-jeaned legs out in front of him.
She took a swig, the familiar burn calming her.
“For starters”—his eyes were tight on hers—“you give a fucking amazing blowjob.”
She almost spit the vodka all over him. She swallowed her drink and stared. She knew when someone gave you a compliment you were supposed to say “thank you” but she couldn’t. It was too much.
He didn’t speak; he was forcing her to.
Grasping for anything, she finally said, “Who are you comparing me to?”
His face pinched.
She was trying to give him the crap she always did, but clearly she’d miscalculated. “Sorry, I was joking.” She shrugged. “I guess I don’t know how to do this.”
He exhaled. “You talk to me about guys all the time.” His fingers widened on the bedspread.
All the time was not that accurate. He talked to her about women, and she said whoever she was seeing at the moment was “fine.” She never gave details. He asked for them and sometimes she acquiesced, but for the most part he told her things.
Things she saw now had been fueling what had just happened between them more than she’d realized.
“Here’s a tip.” He took a finger and tapped it against the center of her nose. “When I’m telling you how sexy you are, don’t bring up other women.”
“Right,” she replied, feeling a blush down to her bones.
“You could reply with your own compliment about how sexy I am,” he suggested with a lighthearted smile, “or…” His face turned serious, his eyes had the power to give her a heart attack. “You could just say thank you.”
She took another drink, the warmth of the vodka not even coming close to the heat on her skin as she rewound back to the two of them in that room. She passed the bottle back, she’d had enough. She could barely control herself sober.
“I do think you’re sexy,” he admitted, his shoulders wide against the headboard. “I know I need to try and forget that, but it’s the truth.”
She swallowed and stared at him. He’d told her to say thank you. He’d told her to reply with her own compliment, but even now she was still too insecure to say anything at all.
He moistened his lips. “One day I’m going to make you take that compliment.”
She exhaled, letting out the words she could let out.
Alec stood, walked over to his suitcase, and pulled out a three-quarters-full bottle of vodka. It must have been what he was using to fill his flask.
“No, we’re not.” He smiled. “Also, I think I know where we can get some ice and mixers.”
She managed to smile back, but her face was on fire, and the hairs at the back of her neck poked out like needles. That room, the feeling of him rocking inside her when they were in that room, was all she could see.
“Not Coke,” she replied quickly.
He laughed.
“I’m seriously never going to like Coke.”
“I did my best.” He fluttered his eyelashes.
That brought a laugh from her. “Pretty sad even that couldn’t flip me.”
He paused, straightened his shoulders, and finally cleared his throat. “Does this mean we’re talking about it? Because I don’t know about you, but I’d really like to.”
She tried to breathe. He wants to talk about it? Maybe she’d had him all wrong. Maybe he was the guy who wanted to cuddle and murmur into her hair. Crap, why can’t I stop thinking about that?
“I guess,” she said, needing to say something.
“I’m not going to get crazy on you or anything, but I always talk to you about the women I’m with. What happened between us shouldn’t change that.”
She understood what he was doing, but in that moment she didn’t care. She wanted to relive it with him. God knew she’d be reliving it with herself nightly, and whenever she had the time to take a bath.
“Okay.” She reached out for the bottle, needing a little liquid courage.
He headed to the bed and handed it over, taking a spot beside her. He sat back against the headboard and laid his black-jeaned legs out in front of him.
She took a swig, the familiar burn calming her.
“For starters”—his eyes were tight on hers—“you give a fucking amazing blowjob.”
She almost spit the vodka all over him. She swallowed her drink and stared. She knew when someone gave you a compliment you were supposed to say “thank you” but she couldn’t. It was too much.
He didn’t speak; he was forcing her to.
Grasping for anything, she finally said, “Who are you comparing me to?”
His face pinched.
She was trying to give him the crap she always did, but clearly she’d miscalculated. “Sorry, I was joking.” She shrugged. “I guess I don’t know how to do this.”
He exhaled. “You talk to me about guys all the time.” His fingers widened on the bedspread.
All the time was not that accurate. He talked to her about women, and she said whoever she was seeing at the moment was “fine.” She never gave details. He asked for them and sometimes she acquiesced, but for the most part he told her things.
Things she saw now had been fueling what had just happened between them more than she’d realized.
“Here’s a tip.” He took a finger and tapped it against the center of her nose. “When I’m telling you how sexy you are, don’t bring up other women.”
“Right,” she replied, feeling a blush down to her bones.
“You could reply with your own compliment about how sexy I am,” he suggested with a lighthearted smile, “or…” His face turned serious, his eyes had the power to give her a heart attack. “You could just say thank you.”
She took another drink, the warmth of the vodka not even coming close to the heat on her skin as she rewound back to the two of them in that room. She passed the bottle back, she’d had enough. She could barely control herself sober.
“I do think you’re sexy,” he admitted, his shoulders wide against the headboard. “I know I need to try and forget that, but it’s the truth.”
She swallowed and stared at him. He’d told her to say thank you. He’d told her to reply with her own compliment, but even now she was still too insecure to say anything at all.
He moistened his lips. “One day I’m going to make you take that compliment.”
She exhaled, letting out the words she could let out.
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