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“When did you get this?”
Surprise simmered in his features before he lit up and sent a yearning deep into her soul. She felt the joy leap from him as his hand wrapped around her wrist.
“Ages ago,” he said promptly. “Daria?”
“Yes,” she whispered, understanding what he asked. His mouth dropped open a bit, drawing her attention there, and the second glimpse made her realize how sensual it looked. Her heart skipped a beat as her mind pictured how that mouth looked while he had been in the shower, groaning out loud in the throes of pleasure. When it became too much, she swallowed and looked up—a mistake, as now it was that watchful gaze that arrested her.
“Since when?”
“When I woke up. Riva’s was the first face I saw.”
“I should have checked up on you. Stayed with you.” A thumb rubbed her pulse point.
“Then you would have been the first face I saw.”
“I would have wanted that,” he admitted, the wistfulness light. Mischief followed. “Do I look like what you expected?”
Better. There was nothing symmetrical about it, and he wasn’t as polished as Diego nor as picture-perfect as Edmund, but the angular lines and small flaws had her mouth going dry, anyway, as only one word came to mind: gorgeous. The man was gorgeous and he didn’t even know it.
“I don’t know,” she lied. “I didn’t know what to expect. But you are not ugly.”
His eyes widened. A grin flashed and stunned before he threw his head back in laughter, the sound sizzling down her bones until she was throbbing everywhere. Still, she didn’t turn away, taking in every inch and returning to his mouth when the laughter ceased and he was back to smiling.
“Have you had your fill yet?” he asked softly.
“No. I want to keep looking.”
Perhaps it was the huskiness in her tone. Perhaps it was the hitch. Or maybe it was the memory of what they had shared yesterday. His smile faded off, the intensity heightening to a smoking point that coated every inch of her with tingles. She shuddered.
His hand clenched slightly, feeling its wave, and he leaned forward until she could see the faint freckles at the bridge of his nose. Then someone called his name, and they both turned to look at Sona, who had her arms crossed and was peering back resolutely.
“The person you made wait outside is still there. Waiting.”
Charlie’s body jerked back as if someone had slapped him. The moment broken, Daria stepped back, too, and watched as all the softness left him, and he hardened before her eyes. It baffled, this sudden switch, but so did the brief, unreadable look he sent her way.
And then it all made sense and pierced her like a sword.
“I have to get back to Hayley. She’s waiting.”
She sat on the table alone, processing what had happened and how Charlie had left in a hurry to get to Hayley: the woman of his dreams, the one who owned his heart, and the one who had the privilege to see all those micro-expressions he made whenever she wanted. When someone approached, she struggled with the hurt and looked up to find Riva plopping down beside her with a bottle of vodka and some glasses in hand.
“I need a drink,” the woman declared brightly. “And I don’t want to do it alone.”
Daria opened her mouth, ready to protest, until she realized that Riva’s face didn’t match her voice. “Are you upset?”
“No. I just want to celebrate.”
“I will second the celebration,” Sona piped in, sashaying towards them with a basket of fries. Malifeskos trailed after her with another bottle and more food. “Mal, too.”
“Oscar?”
“Sleep,” Malifeskos said.
And that was how Daria found herself drinking before nine in the evening when she had never drunk more than the occasional beer all her life. They maintained the companionable silence for a while, taking shot after shot until Riva’s put-out expression relaxed.
“This is fun,” Riva declared.
“I suggested it. So, yes, it is,” Sona said, then turned to their male companion. “What about you, Mal? Is this fun for you, or are you with us because there’s nothing else to do around here?”
