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Her smile broadens as she rests a hand on my chest to steady herself. “That would be tragic, but I’m sure you would survive. You love kids.”
“I loveyourkids.” It’s out of my mouth before I can think on it, but I don’t regret it, because I do love those little rugrats. Not having them here wouldn’t be the same.
“I think the feeling is—”hiccup“—mutual. And I love that you love my kids. Does that make sense?”
“Let’s get you to bed.”
“That’s a good idea. Will you do me a favor?” She stands, clinging to my arms as she does.
“Anything.”
She chews on her bottom lip and that flush rushes across her cheeks again.
“Beth?”
Her breath catches as I tuck the stray curls behind her ear.
“Uh huh?”
“You wanted to ask me something.”
Blinking, she clears her throat. “Right. Can you remind me tomorrow that I’ve already asked if we could stay because I’m drunk, and I’ll forget. I’ll just end up embarrassing myself when I ask you again.”
“Deal. Now bed.”
Nodding, she stumbles away. I think she might be finally sick when she stalls, but instead, she spins around and wraps her arms around my waist. I swallow dryly, trying not to notice how the soft curves of her body fit perfectly against me, but that would be a fucking miracle.
“Thanks,” she breathes against my chest. “For everything.”
Her scent from whatever coconut infused shampoo she washes her hair with invades me.
“You don’t need to thank me.”
Still in my arms, she tilts her head back so I can see her eyes, and in them, I see a thousand unspoken words, an ocean of secrets I might never know, and a woman strong enough to do anything she sets her mind to—even if she doesn’t see it herself yet.
There’s no smile, only fire dances in the honey flecks of her whiskey-colored eyes. She bites her already abused lip between her teeth.
I want so much to replace her bite with mine. To know what she tastes like. To feel her on my tongue. To touch every inch of her.
Resisting her comes with needing a strength I never knew I possessed. And it’s failing the longer she’s in my arms.
“Go to bed, Beth.”
Her chest rises and falls in synch with mine as our breaths release harshly, dancing between us.
“What if I don’t want to?”
Christ.
Don’t say that.
My fingers dig into her waist as I try to focus on anything but how hard I’m becoming.
Her mouth parts in a gasp.
She’s drunk.
As much as I want her, I know she will regret it in this state. My only hope is she forgets all this by morning.
