Page 12 of Absinthe Dreams
God, that laugh made me feel like a giant.
She takes a sip of wine, and then her eyes widen. I watch in amusement as she drinks half the glass before setting it down.
"That's good."
"Yeah? You like it?"
She nods, her tongue flicking along her bottom lip to gather up every last drop. And I barely bite back a groan. I want to be the one licking wine from her lips. I want to taste it on her tongue. Christ, not even beating off in the bathroom today helped alleviate the ache in my balls.
I doubt anything ever will. Until she's beneath me, moaning my name, I'm going to be permanently hard. I accepted that shit a long time ago. But fuck my life, you'd think it'd get easier at some point.
Spoiler Alert: It doesn't.
"What is it?"
"What?" I ask, still wrapped up in images of me licking wine from various places on her body, to remember what we were even talking about.
"The wine."
"Ambrosia Kisses," I mutter, spinning the bottle so she can read the label. "Ridley crafted it in Italy and imported it when he came home. I guess it's got something to do with Paisley." I shrug, not really clear on the details. Ridley's tight-lipped about the wine, but it's damn good.
Chloe's expression softens. "I can't believe your cousins are all getting married," she says. "First Jareth, then Ridley. Now, Haven says Bastian will be the next one with an announcement." Her lips curve into a wistful smile. "I still remember all of you having paintball wars on the vineyard when we were kids."
"Uh, Bastian never had a paintball war."
"He supervised," she says, her smile growing.
"You did, too." I take a sip of wine, eyeing her over the rim. "At least long enough to figure out where everyone was hiding so you and the girls could kick our asses."
A bright peal of laughter spills across the kitchen. "Don't blame me. You're the one who kept falling for it."
"As if I was going to rat you out," I say, grinning at her. "I fucking loved watching you win."
She glances away from me, her cheeks pink. And then she grabs the bottle of wine like she isn't sure what else to do with herself.
"You're going to be drunk soon if you keep drinking like that," I murmur, watching as she downs another entire glass.
"Maybe that's the point."
Shit. I am not mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with Chloe drunk. She's feisty on a good day. Drunk, she's a little firecracker. But I bite my tongue when she refills her glass again, refusing to prove her right by telling her what to do yet again.
We eat in silence for several long moments before Thanos interrupts, peering over the edge of the table like he wants to know why the fuck we're keeping the good shit out of reach.
"Here, buddy," Chloe says, laughing as she cuts a large bite of chicken and holds it out to him.
He rolls one eye in my direction as if to tell me to get my shit together and then paces around the table to her. He takes the chicken from her hand, oh so gently, and then pads back to his bed, happy with his treat.
She's watching him, but I'm watching her. The wine is definitely hitting her hard. Her eyes are a little glassy, and her smile is a touch fuzzy. Her cheeks are flushed.
She's so goddamn beautiful.
Christ, how am I supposed to survive living under the same roof with her for the next several days? I can't. I know I can't.I'll snap, cross the line, and any hope I have of rebuilding our friendship will crumble to dust. She'll realize that I've been in love with her for most of my life, and then what?
If she doesn't kick my ass herself, her father will. Or mine. Or Wyatt. There are ninety ways this could end, and most of them are disastrous, not just for us but for the bonds our families have forged over the years.
"You should think about heading back to San Francisco tomorrow," I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
Her smile slips as she glances across the table at me. "And here we go again," she mutters, her lips pursing. "You're human for all of five minutes, and then it's right back to telling me what to do."
