Page 84 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“Little bit.” His hands were on my waist, steadying me. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

He steered me toward my bedroom. I let him, too warm and fuzzy to argue.

I flopped on the bed. I might have drank a bit more than I thought. I didn’t think I was that drunk, but it seemed to have snuck up on me.

“Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Lift your arms,” he said quietly.

He pulled my blouse over my head and tossed it on the floor. He then pulled my skirt down. I was left in just my underwear. I should have felt self-conscious. I should have felt vulnerable. I didn’t.

I felt powerful. Wanted. I reached for him and kissed him.

He kissed me back immediately, his hands coming up to frame my face, and then we were falling back onto the bed together. His weight pressed me into the mattress. I arched up against him. My fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. Somehow I managed to get them undone, one by one.

“Wait,” he said against my mouth.

“No.”

“Cleo.” He pulled back, breathing hard. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” I heard myself pout. Actually pout. Like a child denied dessert.

He looked at me and I could see him having an internal battle. I hope he lost. If he lost, I won. He leaned down and kissed me again but differently this time. Soft. Gentle. Achingly sweet.

Like goodbye.

“Because you’re drunk,” he said quietly. “And you said you didn’t want to do this.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Did you? Or did the wine change it for you?”

I opened my mouth to argue and realized I didn’t have a good answer. He stood up slowly, like it physically hurt him to do it. His shirt was half unbuttoned. His hair was a disaster.

And he was truly the sexiest man alive. He oozed sex appeal without even trying.

“Goodnight, Cleo,” he said, then left.

I stared at the ceiling, breathing hard, feeling desire course through me like electricity. My skin was too tight. My heart was beating too fast. Everything felt heightened and desperate. I couldn’t believe I’d just cock-blocked myself.

I’d set this stupid boundary. I’d been so sure. So clear-headed and certain. And now I was lying here alone, buzzed and frustrated and wanting him so badly I could barely breathe.

I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow and groaned. I heard his door close. I could roll out of bed and chase him down. I closed my eyes instead.

I needed to sleep this off. In the morning I’d be grateful he’d been the responsible one. In the morning I’d thank him for respecting my boundaries even when I’d been too drunk to respect them myself.

But right now, all I felt was the crushing weight of my own excellent decision-making.

I’d never wanted anyone more in my entire life.