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I had lost control for a few minutes.
And I had seen the blush on her cheeks.
She liked it.
Of course, then I had gone on to question her and she had pulled away from me.
Coming to her place was a spur of the moment thing. I had lost my cell but more than this, I also wanted to check u
p on her. When she had left my car, she looked so miserable, a certain misery in her gaze that had made me want to beat someone up.
I hadn’t been expecting to find her drunk off of cheap whiskey.
A drunk Elise doesn’t hold back on her feelings and she lets a lot of things slip. Despite being an adorable handful, she’s being cross and stubborn. Every time her lips part, I learn something or the other about her present situation.
When she voiced her desire to leave Starr Industries my blood ran cold. And then this contract.
What did she sign a contract for?
It’s ringing alarm bells.
Suddenly, she realizes she’d spoken too much and now she’s trying to backtrack. Her cheeks are flaming red and her mouth trembles at my words.
I’m seized with a desire to cover it with my own, just to see what she tastes like. But I restrain myself.
“You should go,” she mumbles, faintly.
I sigh. I don’t want to upset her but I will get my answers one way or another. But for now… “Come on. Time for bed.” I force her onto her feet, trying to ignore the way her bare legs rub against my pants as she stumbles.
Everything about her makes me want to sink into her and never get out. She’s like a drug to me and she doesn’t even realize how tightly she has me in her delicate fist.
“I don’t want to sleep,” Elise protests even as she lets me take her to what I assume is her room.
I grab the baby monitor in one hand. “You’re drunk and you have an infant to take care of,” I scold her, lightly.
She looks chastised at my words.
I make her sit in her bed. When she starts looking a little anxious, I pretend not to see it and force her to lay down. It’s barely ten at night and she’s starting to look tired. I have a feeling she isn’t accustomed to drinking much. Tonight must have been one of the spurs of the moment things.
I tuck the blanket around her and put the baby monitor next to her on the side table.
This is not how I’d been expecting this night to end. I had maybe been hoping to convince her to let me order some takeout to make up for that unpleasant scene at the office. But as I look at her watching me, the mental exhaustion from the day making her eyes droop, I muse that this isn’t the worst way to end the night.
I have the urge to press my lips to her forehead, affection rising in me. I settle for running a tender hand through her hair and chuckling. “You’re going to have an awful hangover tomorrow and you’re going to be so mad at me.”
“I’m already mad at you,” she informs me, her words slurred. “You made me tell you all these things and then you threw away my whiskey.”
I run my fingers through her hair again.
She closes her eyes against her will.
“I’ll get you a new one, darling.”
“I liked that one,” she mutters, stubbornly.
I smile at her words. “There’s a strange man in your bedroom and you’re worried about your whiskey.”
She’s half asleep, and she mumbles, “You’re not a strange man. You’re Lucas.”
