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15
Good Girl
SIGHING, PHILLIP PAIDspecial attention to the area around my navel, and the remark was quickly lost to the tipsy haze inside my head. I tried to hold onto it, but it was gone before I realized.
Tonight was the first time I genuinely felt like a teenager—making stupid choices in exchange for momentary bliss. I might come to regret it, but right now, it felt right.
I was myself again.
And for some reason, with Phillip, I didn’t feel like being a teenage girl was something I should ever apologize for. In a way, he made me feel safe to be whoever I wanted to be; to let loose and make poor decisions. Teenager or adult, it didn’t matter, he’d treat me the same either way.
Phillip grinned to himself and wiped the area with one of our wound prep tonics, oddly focused for being two bottles into the night.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore. He’d taken it off after downing the first bottle of Vodka. I blushed and downed two drinks myself when the Austrian all but stripped in front of me, which made him smile in his usual erotic manner. But I couldn’t deny his muscles were amazing under a sea of intricate tattoos. I didn’t bother to hide my interest in them.
After several drinks, I was bolder and less ashamed of my stare. To my ongoing surprise, he had his nipples pierced alongside his belly button, and I wanted to ask about them. I wanted to touch each piercing with my fingertips.
“It’s lame to get this, huh? A little slutty maybe?” I questioned, nodding my chin down at my stomach.
Phillip looked up at me, eyebrow raised. “Not true. I mean, it’s not lame. Slutty? Maybe. Not you but me, definitely.” He groaned, sinking a hand into his hair. “Am I making any sense right now?”
It was a treat to hear the always-eloquent Austrian babble, and I grinned when our eyes met. “It makes sense, at least to drunk me.”
“Thought you weren’t drunk?”
“I’m not. How dare you accuse me of such a baseless lie,” I teased with another giggle.
His answering smile was dazzling. “Forgive me, my Queen. It was impertinent of me to suggest such a thing.”
“Forgiven.” I tilted my chin, trying and failing horribly to hide a grin. “Only you would talk using big words two bottles in. How high is your tolerance?”
“Higher than yours.”
“Jerk.”
Phillip leaned forward, light-eyed gaze occupied with my stomach again. The touch of his fingers as they danced lazily across my belly made me dizzy for an entirely different reason.
“I think it’ll look great on you.” The Hunter looked down at his folded stomach, straightening slightly. “Doesn’t look terrible, right?”
I giggled lightly, an arm above my head on the pillow and my right hand keeping my shirt up. “Guess it’s cool on you. Not going to lie, I was surprised to see it.”
