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I pour myself a drink, noting the lightness of the bottle. No wonder she’s hiccupping her dry tears. I’m surprised she hasn’t passed out or vomited all over my floor.
“I really wanted to shout at you,” she hiccups, looking up at me with sloping eyes that cause my chest to clench around my insides.
Surprisingly there aren’t any tears, and although her speech is a little slurred, she looks like she’s holding the booze all right.
“But?” I ask, trying to evaluate the delicacy of her drunkenness.
“But—” Another hiccup. “—I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”
A low laugh rumbles at the back of my throat at the glare she pins me with. I hold it while I drink back the measure I poured myself all in one go, and then pour myself a full glass to match the one she’s got in her hand.
“This is a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bottle of whisky.”
“It is?” she asks with a mocking trill.
“It was a present from my grandfather—” Blue eyes widen at my remark. “—and I’m pretty sure you’ve managed to drink at least a couple months’ salary of it.”
Ava laughs, and like at the bar, it makes me like her more than I should. Ava has the kind of warm and inviting laugh that makes you forget yourself. It’s a fatal attraction. Like her anger and her sass. Things that make me want to play with her just a little bit more, and more…and more.
“Dock it.” Clinking her glass to mine, Ava hiccups again.
“I will.”
There’s a beat of silence as I watch her gulp down a couple mouthfuls of the liquor. Following suit, I drink back half of my glass, not taking the usual time to savor the smokiness or the grain. It’s all burn, and it flames inside me as I watch Ava drink—her head tipped back and her eyes screwed shut as though she hates the taste. A drop escapes the side of her mouth, and all I can think of right now is how she would look with my cock fucking her mouth and my cum running down her jaw and that delicate neck.
Fuck. I can’t stop my thoughts from spiraling out of control. The only option I have is to keep drinking because if I fuck her even halfway sober, I’ll probably still be taking advantage of her state with the way I want to fuck her up and tear her apart.
“I’m a terrible drunk,” Ava says with another hiccup as she wipes her lips on the back of her hand.
I’ve seen worse. I’ve fucked worse too.
“You can always switch to water. Want some?” Although I ask, the idea of getting up isn’t pleasant.
“Do you want water, Mr. Fuck Control?”
“No.” I sip some more of my drink, and with certainty that I’m going to regret it, I ask, “Why did you want to shout at me today?”
“Because.” Ava hiccups again, and I have to hold in my chuckle because she’s not even finished and she’s already gulping down what’s left of her whisky. “Because you’re an asshole who’s ruining my—” Hiccup. “—life.”
“And how am I—” I feign a hiccup. “—ruining your life?”
“See? Asshole.”
“I’m sure there are better adjectives to describe me.”
“No, it sums you up perfectly.” Her mouth quirks to one side, and in an impeccably coordinated move for her inebriated state, she turns to lean her back on the glass, her legs spread alongside mine.
Suddenly, New York gets a little prettier.
“You’re tall, dark, and handsome. Hot actually, and you’re not so bad down there.” Ava gestures at my cock with her glass, dark manicured toes nudging my thigh. “But then you do shitty things, like film us fucking and then blackmailing me… You’ve made me do shitty things too. So, yeah…asshole.”
There’s nothing I can say in my defense because it’s all true. Instead, I finish my drink, and when I reach forward to pour myself another at the same time as she goes to grab the bottle, our gazes catch. Close. Wide. And Ava really is beautiful.
Tall, slender, and tanned. Her thick hair is so dark that it makes her eyes a bright cerulean even in the muted darkness. Hypnotizing with the pink blushing her high cheekbones.
“Truce?” she murmurs with the faintest hitch.
Fuck.
