Page 82 of Make You Love Me
His shoulders dip with disappointment, but he recovers quickly and accepts our drinks from the bartender.
“What?” I ask, taking the glass of wine he slides down the sleek bar surface to me, his gaze lingering with a look I don’t understand.
“Nothing. Except, I don’t believe you. I seem to remember you not being able to keep your lips to yourself a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, well, a kiss is a lot different from what you were insinuating.” And a lot less satisfying. Something flutters in my stomach, and I snuff it out with a sip of wine.
He looks over his shoulder and wiggles his brow. “Care to wager?”
“You’re incorrigible.” And too damn sexy for his own good. “What are we betting on now?”
“That you can’t go the rest of the night without kissing me.” He turns and leans an elbow on the bar. “And before you take the bet, you should know…” His voice lowers to a sultry growl as he waves me closer. I lean in without realizing it and let his sexy pine scent intoxicate me further. “I plan to do everything I can to make you lose.”
I breathe him in a moment longer before sitting back to uncross and cross my legs, pausing in the middle with my knees wide. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to push us into being more than friends.”
A dumb look on his face tells me he hadn’t thought through his challenge. That means, I’m winning…for now. Sulking, he reaches for his beer and gulps half of it.
Tonight will be a test of willpowers, and with alcohol involved, there’s a high probability both of us will lose. Or win, depending on the perspective.
Chapter 22
Nora
Abright light assaults my eyes, the pain radiating through my throbbing head like an oncoming freight train. I need to look away, but my head and body hurt too much to move.
Details of how our little Las Vegas night ended are blurry, but I can guarantee that whatever happened here will definitely not stay here. There will be repercussions and alterations to the norm that neither of us can predict.
It also didn’t help that the hotel had only a few rooms remaining, all with one queen bed and a sleeper sofa. Apparently, Thursdays are a big gambling night, and we were lucky to get this room.
I glance at the sofa to find it empty and in its original shape. No transformation into a bed. No mussed sheets. No Jordan. A slight forest scent registers to my right and there’s a void where my arm should be. It’s dead weight from him lying on it and cutting off my circulation. If we’re in the same bed…I lift the sheet and peer under with one eye. Holy hell. My leg is wrapped around him, and he’s naked.
I’m naked.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Sliding my tingling arm out from under him, I roll out of bed and search the floor on my hands and knees for my clothes. His and mine are strewn across the carpet and intermingled like we undressed in a hurricane.
Sitting on my knees, I yank on the black sweater—not bothering with a bra, mainly because I haven’t found it yet—and snatch up my underwear. Rotating to my ass, I push my feet through the leg holes and realize there’s only one. Yep. My underwear, the lacy pair I bought a few weeks ago, is ripped.
I kick my foot, sending the useless undergarment flying into the air. To my horror, it takes its time floating to the floor like a little parachute. What in the hell did we do last night?Don’t answer that brain.My system is not recovered enough for the answer.
Tugging on my jeans, I’m thankful they’re stretched out from wear, but I rather have a pair of yoga pants or pajamas. Doing the crawl of shame is nearly impossible with fitted jeans and sore muscles.
Damn, why is every inch of me screaming? And if I was active enough last night to be sore, I wish I could remember it. Must have been quite the—
My phone vibrates, and I race to snatch it off the bedside table, hoping not to wake Jordan. He had more to drink than I did. Maybe he won’t remember either, saving me the embarrassment of having to admit I don’t.
Turning toward the window, I check the message. Air catches in my lungs as I read.
Clark:Missed you in class this morning. Barbie’s whiny voice was anything but relaxing.
A snicker spurts out of my closed lips when I see the new contact label for Henry. Drunken creativity at its best. I wonder who else has a new nickname in my contacts list.
Me:Sorry you had to endure that. I’m out of town.
Clark:Will you be back tonight?
Me:Yeah. Does VETS need something?
