Page 32 of Bleed

The third, however, barely has enough left to coat the bottom of the bottle.

“You’ve had at least thirty ounces,” he observes. “And you weigh…” His gaze lifts from the bottle, sweeping over me again with irritating precision. “A hundred and ten pounds?”

“One thirteen,” I correct automatically.

He frowns. “Then assuming you consumed the wine within the last two hours, your blood alcohol concentration is easily three times the legal driving limit.”

“What are you, a cop?” I scoff.

“No, I’m a scientist,” he replies simply. “And my work depends on accuracy.” He sets the bottle back on the island and drags a hand through his thick chestnut hair, mussing it further. “I can’t have you in the lab tonight. Not in your current state.”

I open my mouth to argue, but quickly think better of it– because not working in close quarters with this jerk all night actually sounds pretty damn good right now.

“Fine by me,” I say, lifting my chin.

His eyes narrow behind the lenses of his glasses. “I trust you’ll remain sober tomorrow evening?”

I shrug. “We’ll see.”

A soft sigh leaves him as he begins re-corking the fuller bottles, discarding the empty one. “James mentioned you might be difficult,” he mutters.

“Funny,” I snort. “I got the same warning about you.”

“And yet here you are.”

There’s something in the way he says it that feels oddly loaded, like he’s still trying to figure out why I agreed to this whole thing.

I spread my arms with a grin. “Here I am.” Then, because the wine has fully dissolved my remaining self-preservation instincts, I add, “So should we just fuck now and get the tension out of the way?”

For the first time, Dr. Faulkner visibly falters.

It’s subtle– so subtle that I probably wouldn’t catch it if I wasn’t staring right at him– but he actually freezes up for a second. His expression tightens before smoothing back into place, his pupils flaring wide enough to nearly swallow the brown of his irises.

And yeah, maybe I’m drunk, but I’m also not blind.

He’s hot. I’m hot. We’re going to be living together for an entire year. Fucking each other feels less like a possibility and more like an inevitability at this point, so we might as well skip the pretense.

He averts his gaze, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t do that.”

“What, have sex?” I laugh incredulously.

“Not with humans.”

The admission hits me with a weird little sting.

“And why’s that?” I huff, a bit too defensive. Because I honestly can’t recall the last time anyone turned me down, and my ego doesn’t appreciate the hit.

He rounds the kitchen island slowly, advancing in my direction. “You’re too breakable.”

I should probably be offended. Instead, heat curls low in my belly when he stops a little too close, towering over me with those dark, unblinking eyes fixed on my face like he’s imagining exactly how easily he could hurt me.

“Psh.” I roll my eyes, even as my pulse kicks a little harder. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I’m well endowed,” he says, stating it as a fact, not a brag. “I’d rip you in half.”

My gaze instantly drops to his crotch before I can stop myself, a shiver sliding down my spine.

I’m not sure whether to be terrified or turned on by that statement. Unfortunately, the heat pooling between my legs makes the answer pretty obvious.