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But that’s not what catches my attention and holds it with a death grip. No, it’s my shirt. One of my Johnson Hardware T-shirts hugs her curves and hits mid-thigh.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” I ask, ripping my eyes from her bare legs and bringing the conversation back to the alcohol.
Hallie steps into the kitchen and shrugs. “I haven’t had any of those yet.”
“What?” I ask, my throat a little dry.
She steps up beside me, her light perfume wrapping around me, going straight to my cock. “Shots.”
My eyebrows draw together in confusion. “You want to do shots? At midnight? After drinking your weight in wine?”
The sweetest giggle slips from her lips. “Not quite my weight, but I had plenty. Feeling no pain right now.”
I prop my hip against the counter and cross my arms over my bare chest. “What are you doing up, Hal? You should be sleeping.”
She shrugs, her arm brushing against mine. “I’ve never been a particularly heavy sleeper and woke up because it was too quiet.”
My eyes narrow just a bit as I try to keep up with her line of thinking. “It was too quiet?”
Nodding, she reaches for the shot glass on the counter and fills it with alcohol. “I’m used to sleeping with a TV or music on, so it was just too quiet. Let’s play a game.”
“A game?”
“Yeah, kinda like truth or dare. We’ll ask questions or make dares, and if the other person doesn’t want to do it or say, they have to drink.”
“So…truth or dare.”
This can’t end well.
“Whatever,” she replies, opening the first cabinet directly in front of her. “You got any snacks? I get snacky when I drink.”
“Maybe you should just go to bed,” I suggest, walking toward the dry food cabinet and grabbing a bag of pretzel sticks.
She rips the package out of my hands and grabs a fistful, popping the first one in her mouth. “Got any peanut butter?” she asks while chewing.
With a shake of my head, I return to the cabinet and pull out the jar of peanut butter. “That’s multiple questions. Does that count as two?”
“No,” she quickly replies, scooping a glob of peanut butter out of the jar with the end of a pretzel and shoving it into her mouth. “My first question is why am I sleeping in your bed?”
My cock kicks at the memory her question conjures up. “Because I only have one bed.”
Her eyes narrow a bit in consideration. “But you have a guest room.”
I shrug and grab a pretzel stick from the bag. She holds up the jar of peanut butter, but I shake my head. “I do, but it doesn’t have a bed. There’s an old weight bench in there and a desk I always say I’m going to use as my office at home but have never gotten around to actually using.”
“Hmm. So you were going to sleep on the couch?”
After swallowing my snack, I nod. “Yep.”
“Interesting. Okay, your turn.”
“Why are you wearing my shirt?” I find myself asking.
She glances down. “When I woke up, my dress had ridden up to my waist, and if I was going to fall back asleep, I knew I needed to get comfortable. I usually sleep in old T-shirts, so I scrounged through your drawer and found this one.”
The corner of my mouth curls up. “Last time I was near your drawers, I got accused of rooting through your panties.”
“You were! You threw them on the ground,” she insists, even though that wasn’t exactly what happened. The drawer I was pulling out to move fell and discarded her panties all over the place. It took me days to get the image of her red lace thong out of my head.
