Page 111 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

“Jesus.”

“And enjoy your goddamn picnic, I swear to god.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I griped, smiling despite my best efforts as Alex walked me onto the blanket and then shoved me down. Stumbling, I flopped onto my ass, tipping my head back to observe him. Towering above me, the grin on Alex’s face did nothing to soften the heat in his eyes. He liked me below him. There was no denying that.

“Yeah, yeah. An asshole who cares,” Alex replied, falling into our usual bickering to set me at ease. “And who also wants to beat your ex with a baseball bat.”

“Alex!”

“Full of nails.” He flopped down beside me and immediately went for the bottle of wine. “You know, I usually don’t eat any of this stuff,” he said. I was grateful for the change of subject, not sure how to respond to his threats of violence.

“Really?” I asked, amused when he fought with the wine bottle for a moment before getting it open.

“No. My PT—personal trainer—has me on a strict macro-nutrient based diet plan.”

I stared at him dubiously. “But all I’ve seen you eat is junk.”

“Yeah, because I’m onvacation.” Alex reached over to boop my nose. I glowered at him and he laughed, undeterred. He offered me the wine bottle with a waggle. “Some of us know what that means.” He arched a brow my way. “Want some? I don’t have cups. Forgot that part, ha. But! I mean, we’ve already shared cooties a couple times today. What’s the harm of a few more?”

I grimaced but accepted the bottle. “I don’t normally drink.” For the sake of fairness, I offered him a concession of my own.

Alex tried to take the bottle back but I fought him for it.

I won.

“Fuckin’ rabid raccoon. Fine. Keep your damn bottle.” He snorted and shook his head. A dark lock of hair fell over his brow as he eyed me curiously. “Why don’t you drink?” he inquired, instead of asking why I was hell-bent on keeping the bottle despite this.

“I don’t like feeling out of control. Or unsafe.”

“Baby—”

“Stopbabyingme.”

“I’m not!” Alex rolled his eyes heavenward. “It’s—you know what? Never mind. You weren’t this prickly when I was snuggling you like five seconds ago. Biting my head off, goddamn.”

“I don’t—” I started, flushing a bit and ignoring his grumbling. “I mean…I don’t feel unsafe with…you…though.” Alex’s eyes lit up, like I’d just offered him a winning lottery ticket.

“Yeah?” His smile softened, face slanted my way as he leaned back on his hands, the picture of relaxation. He spread his legs in the cocky way he always did, thigh bleeding heat into mine. I clutched the wine bottle tighter,the chilly glass smooth against my fingertips.

“I would drink with you,” I told him, cheeks flushed. “I think…I think it might even be fun.”

“Wow,” Alex’s voice was teasing but the look in his eyes made it clear that he was flattered. “You know you don’t have to though, right? I didn’t know you didn’t like alcohol. If I’d known I could’ve brought something else.”

“You’re not listening.”

“I actually am, though.”

“Iwantto drink with you.” To demonstrate my point, I tipped the bottle back and took a long, messy chug. Messy, not on purpose, but simply because the nature of drinking directly out of a wine bottle made it difficult. The taste was musky sweet, not overly cloying, but enough that it didn’t feel like chugging battery acid.

Setting the bottle back between my legs, I swiped a hand over my mouth, waiting for Alex’s reaction. He was definitely watching me. In particular, my mouth. His pale eyes had darkened, a groan escaping him. Why the hell he was getting turned on by me chugging wine, I had no idea. But I wasn’t about to shame him for it.

Okay…maybe a bit.

“If you get hard because I wrapped my lips around the bottle I am going to scream.”

“It’s a big bottle,” Alex teased. I smacked his shoulder. He laughed. So I smacked it again. “Okay, okay. I believe you. You want to drink with me. Because you trust me.” Having Alex’s attention was addicting, especially when he talked to me like that. He yanked the bottle right out of my grip like it was easy. “Sharing is caring, Georgie. Didn’t your mama teach you that?”

He stared at the open lip of the bottle, like he was picturing the way my mouth had pressed to it. “Christ, I am going insane,” Alex muttered to himself, so quiet I hardly heard him. And then he licked around the rim of the bottle like he was chasing the memory of my lips there.

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