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"Isla!" He’s beside me in an instant. "Are you okay?"
Shock reverberates through me, then I burst out laughing. I laugh until tears slide down my cheeks. Then snort in the most unladylike manner. When I wipe my face, it’s to find him smiling down at me.
"Seems you’re a happy drunk."
"You have no idea."
I blink—see two of his gorgeous faces—blink again. They fuse into one. Gorgeous thick hair, high forehead, hooked nose, and those lips, those puffy lips that I want to chew on. I raise my gaze and find him watching me with a hangry look in his eyes.
"Have you eaten?" I hiccup.
"What?"
"I’m hungry. And you look" —I point at his features and giggle— "hangry. Why are you hangry?"
"Hangry, huh?" His lips curl up on one side. I reach up and touch it. Shimmers of electricity explode through my veins. Those annoying goosebumps dance across my skin.
He must feel the same, for his gaze narrows. Those gray eyes deepen in color, and I can swear there are sparks of blue and green swirling in their depths. The tendons of his throat flex, and a vein throbs at his temple. His jaw is so hard, with the makings of a five o’clock beard, even though I’ll bet he shaved this morning. How can one man be so beautiful? Every time I look at him, my ovaries seem to go into overdrive. Every time I smell him, all the cells in my body seems to awaken. And when he looks at me, my nerve endings spark, and my brain cells threaten to short-circuit. "It should be illegal."
"What?" he asks in a rough voice.
"Looking the way you do. Talking the way you do. Being you… It should all be outlawed. You’re not allowed to be so…" I blink. "So…"
"Charismatic?"
"So arrogant." I frown.
"And you’re not allowed to be so beautiful, inside and out. There’s a generosity in you that always wins, which is why you told Lila what you did. It couldn’t have been easy telling her to leave, knowing you would pay the price for it. And yet, you did."
My cheeks heat. "What’s this? A be-nice-to-Isla session before you pull the rug out from under me?"
"It’s a be-nice-to-Isla-before-you-put-her-to-bed, session."
"Bed?" I shake my head. "No, no, no, I need to go home first."
"You’re not going anywhere in this condition. Get some sleep in the guest room, and when you’re sober in the morning, I’ll drop you back home."
"Promise?" I hold out my pinky finger.
"Promise." He locks his finger with mine. A shiver runs down my spine. This… feels different, like something shifted. Like the balance in this relationship—or whatever it is between us—just tipped toward the middle.
A yawn grips me. "Sorry." I pat my mouth. "Not that you’re boring or anything."
"I know, you’re knackered."
"Yeah, best I get to be—whoops." He scoops me up in his arms and stands up in one fluid movement that leaves me with my mouth gaping open. "Wow, you’re strong." I reach up and feel his biceps. "Like really tough."
"You don’t weigh much at all."
"Ha, ha, ha, joke."
He frowns at me. "There are many things about you that I can criticize. Your weight is not one of them though. You are perfect as-is."
"Flattery will get you" —I yawn— "everywhere." I hook my fingers into the front of his shirt and close my eyes.
The next thing I know, he’s trying to disengage my hold.
"Isla?"
