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So why do I feel so aggravated?
Scooting to the edge of my chair, I snatch up a shot glass and knock the tequila back. It burns going down my throat. Pools in my belly with liquid fire.
I hiss from the sting of it.
Hawk’s low chuckle sends shivers down my skin. “Should I remind you how the game works?”
“Shut up.”
He takes the glass from me.
His fingers brush mine.
Sends electricity burning through my flesh.
Damn him for making me feel this way.
Damn him.
Hawk puts the glass back on the table. “It’s Catherine’s turn. You’re hogging up all the questions.”
“I’ll just take a shot,” Catherine says, reaching over and knocking back tequila.
“I wonder,” Hawk lifts a cup and turns it sideways, eyeing me through the glass, “how fun you are when you’re drunk.”
“Is that your goal? To get me drunk enough to tear my clothes off and screw you?”
“I want you sober when I make love to you for the first time.” His blue eyes burn into me, the picture of total confidence. “But I won’t turn down a strip tease.”
My jaw drops.
This man just… says everything he’s thinking.
Catherine blushes.
My fingers tremble.
I tuck them into my lap. “As if.” I glare into the distance, trying to look angry rather than how I really feel—interested.
Hawk’s fingers grip my chin and gently turn my face back to him. “About that first question…”
“Forget it.”
“There’s no need to be insecure.”
I wrench my jaw to shake his fingers off. “I wasn’t.”
“I find plenty of women attractive…”
“Wow.” I reach for another drink to wash the burn of my annoyance away with liquor.
Hawk’s response is surprisingly quick. He snatches my hand. “Let me finish.”
“Let go.”
His finger slacken. Blue eyes hold me in suspension. “Beauty doesn’t move me. I’ve tasted and seen it all.”
“How humble of you.”
