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I wish I were drunk. Everything would be so much easier if I were.
Two hours later, Daisy leaned on the cool elevator wall and closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. These past couple of hours with “Chris” had been…nice. And now they were alone in an elevator together, and that feeling he mentioned earlier, that they were meant to find each other tonight, wasn’t leaving.
If anything, it was even stronger now that they were alone.
She was so screwed.
“Which Chris am I?” he asked.
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and almost gasped, because his face was right there, next to hers. Well, not next to it. He was a heck of a lot taller than her. But still. He was close. Too close for comfort, because she wanted…wanted…
“Which Chris?” he repeated slowly, clearly not as fazed as she by their close proximity. “Chris Hemsworth, or Chris Evans?”
“Evans.” She gestured toward his dark blond hair. “Your hair’s too short to be Thor.”
He snorted. “I could grow it out.”
“Don’t.” Slowly, she reached out and touched his hair. It was parted to the side, and soft to the touch. It had been so long since she touched a man’s hair. Since… Swallowing, she shook her head slightly, refusing to think about him right now. She’d done enough of that tonight. “I like it like this. I like you the way you are.”
His gaze dipped down to her mouth, but he didn’t close the distance between them. A part of her, a very loud part, wanted him to. Ached for him to. “I like you, too.”
There they went with the staring again.
The tension was so high Daisy had two choices—to kiss him, or to laugh. She chose the latter. A small giggle escaped her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. God. She didn’t giggle. Little girls giggled. Cheerleaders giggled. Not her. “Uh…”
A smile lit up his face, and he brushed his knuckles across the back of her cheeks. “You look happier,” he said, his voice so soft she almost missed it.
“I am,” she answered honestly. “Right now, I am.”
It won’t last, though.
Was it wrong to be happy with another man, today of all days?
A few hours ago, she would have said yes. But now, with Chris, she wasn’t so sure.
The elevator doors opened, and she pushed off the wall, ending their little staring contest, that emptiness already creeping back up her spine. “Well, this is me.”
He followed her, staving off the loneliness for another minute or two, anyway. “I’ll walk you to your door. You drank a lot.”
“So did you,” she pointed out helpfully. She’d spaced out her booze, and made sure not to lose control. She might want to forget, but she didn’t want to be stupid.
“I’m bigger than you. I can handle more.”
“I’m fine. I paced myself.” If only she weren’t fine, maybe she would have the balls to grab his shirt, haul him down to her level, and kiss him already, because he was clearly respecting the boundaries she’d set up earlier, whether she still wanted him to or not. And she wasn’t sure if she did anymore. “But thank you for worrying, and for walking me to my door. It’s very gentlemanlike of you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly
They walked down the hallway side by side, their arms brushing. Every time they touched, something inside her tensed up even more, building up pressure until she was sure she was going to explode if he didn’t either stop, or do something more than accidentally brush against her.
When she halted at her door, he stopped directly behind her, towering over her. “God, how tall are you? Six-four?” she blurted out.
“Exactly.” He cocked his head. “How’d you know?”
“I guessed.”
“You’re good at that.” He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring slightly when she swayed closer. He looked way too sexy standing there with his first few shirt buttons undone, and his jacket open. She wasn’t even sure when he’d done that, but it was hot as hell. “At guessing.”
It would be so easy to grab the lapels of that jacket and pull him closer. And she’d get to find out what he tasted like—whiskey, more than likely, but still, she needed to know. The old her, the one before she lost everything…she would have gone for it. Would have taken what she wanted and not hesitated. But it had been so long since she touched a man, let alone kissed one, and he wasn’t William. He’d never be William.
