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“Well, if it’s the good stuff, it’s supposed to taste good. But if it’s shit—like this—it’s meant to numb the pain of life, let you forget your sorrows and fall asleep without needing to taking your cock in your hand for fifteen minutes first.” Jorik took a long pull of the bottle, then made a very similar face to Rix’s when he took a sip. But rather than pass the bottle to Zane, he took another sip, this time reacting far less disgusted than he had before.
Zane shook his head and accepted the bottle, easily putting it to his lips.
I waited for him to respond like his friends, but he held my gaze as he took a sip and didn’t so much as blink, let alone flinch when he swallowed.
And stupid me, I was mesmerized by the way his throat moved when he swallowed and how his eyes, gray as a winter storm cloud, seemed to blaze silver fire at me.
My heart thumped wildly in my chest, and I could tell he knew it because his nostrils flared and his gaze darkened even more.
“Give it here,” Rix said, making gimme fingers at Zane and breaking the staring contest Zane and I had embarked on. Rix took another sip, his reaction far less dramatic than the first. “Want another sip, Cat?” he asked, offering me the bottle.
Zane tilted his head at me, his eyes still full of fire, challenging me.
I turned back to Rix and with a big smile, accepted the bottle. I put it to my lips and, rather than just let a small trickle seep in, took several long, full gulps.
“Whoa, Angel,” Jorik said. “Careful. That shit’ll peel the paint right off the hull of the boat, so just imagine what it’s going to do to your virgin esophagus.”
Zane snorted. “Judging by the sounds in the boat last night, that esophagus is far fromvirginanymore.”
Rix, Jorik, and I all shot Zane a deadly glare.
“I didn’tswallowtheir dicks, you jerk,” I said.
“Bet you fucking tried to, though,” he shot back.
Still glaring at him, I brought the bottle down to my lap and held back my urge to gag. It was strong, but when I met Zane’s gaze again, my conviction grew. I would not let him see me buckle or appear weak. If they could handle this disgusting …whiskey, then so could I.
All my bravery and bravado earned me, though, was his subtle brow lift.
Such a jerk.
I handed Jorik the bottle, refusing to acknowledge the continuous burn down my throat and that overwhelming, nauseous feeling in my stomach.
I didn’t see Rix get up, but when a glass of water was placed in my hand, I smiled up at him and said, “Thank you.”
“You’ve never had alcohol, have you?” Rix asked, taking a seat again, this time close enough to me that our thighs touched.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Then take it easy. I don’t know what proof that is, but if the owner of this place made it himself, chances are it’s strong. I mean weknowit’s strong. But it’ll fuck you up quick if you drink too much.” Rix wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder, and I slid deeper against him, welcoming that familiar sense of calm and grounding that happened when I was touching one of the guys.
Jorik took another sip, then Zane. The three of them passed the bottle around and around, having collectively decided to cut me off, which based on the way my head was spinning and my stomach was roiling was probably a good idea. Even though it killed me to appear weak in any capacity, particularly in front of Zane, who already considered me a liability.
I didn’t know it until my body shifted, but I must have fallen asleep with my head on Rix’s chest and his arm around me. When I opened my eyes, the sky outside the window was black and I couldn’t see the trees or water below for anything. Rix’s warmth and heartbeat were also gone.
The guys had turned off the lamps in the house and only had one candle flickering on the table in the center of all the couches and chairs.
It made sense. We didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to the cabin or ourselves in case a drone or helicopter flew by.
I could only feel one heartbeat near me, and that caused me to sit up abruptly in a surge of panic.
“They’re just out doing a perimeter sweep,” Zane said quietly from the other end of the couch. “How are you feeling, Kitten?”
I scrambled to the farthest end of the couch from him and glared through the darkness at his face, which was all kinds of beautiful encased in shadows from the flickering candlelight. Damn him.
“Fine,” I snapped.
“Your stomach and head okay?”
