Page 75 of Why Not Both?

Derek hasn’t been nearly as dramatic—he only has one arm draped over her shoulders—but he’s gotten the point across to the other man as well.

“I’m taking Adalie home. You guys want to share a ride?” he asks.

I look down at Lis, the question in my eyes. She gives the tiniest shake of her head.

“We’ll stay for a little bit longer,” I tell him, and he waves and leaves the bar with Adalie.

The beat of the music slows and suddenly we’re dancing together like we did that first night. I know we’re both a little drunk. Maybe a little more drunk than I had intended to be tonight. But watching her all night has done something to my brain and I can’t seem to make it function.

I could tilt my head just a tiny bit more and I would finally know if she tastes like mint.

“Hey,” I say, “You’re not usually this tall.”

She gives me that sassy smile that I love so much. “Well, the air is so thin up here. Honestly, it’s a wonder you survive.”

I laugh, my insides melting, all defenses falling. “I—”

I clack my teeth together, physically preventing myself from saying those three words. Even drunk, I know I can’t tell her. But in the darkness of the bar, with her pressed against me like a second skin, I feel it. I’ve only known her for three months, but I’m as sure as I’ve been of anything in my life.

I am in love with Amaryllis Stone.

And instead of terrifying me, the thought excites me.

“You what?” she finally asks.

“I was starting to get jealous of Adalie,” I say, coming up with anything else I can say. “You kept asking her to dance and not me.”

She pats my cheek like I’m a cute puppy. “Poor baby. You don’t have anything to worry about, though. I’m not into women. Thought about it for a bit when Daze came out, but it’s not for me.”

“That’s a relief. You’re going to be cold going home,” I say.

“I brought a sweater. This silly man refuses to take it back from me. So I’ve decided to make use of it.” She leans closer, lowering her voice like she’s sharing a secret. “It’s the warmest thing I have.”

“You don’t own a winter coat?”

“I do. But this particular hoodie is magic.”

“Is it?”

“It has the essence of the owner sewn right into the fabric and he is the warmest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of touching. I wear that hoodie all the time now. When I’m walking home in the cold. When I’m sleeping. All. The. Time.”

An image of her sleeping in my hoodie, surrounded by me, flashes through my mind and I tighten my hold on her waist. I dip my head a fraction closer to her.

Her eyes drift closed as she waits for me to finish closing the distance. One arm stays wrapped around her waist but my other hand slides up her body, cupping the back of her head. Her arms twine around my neck and she parts her lips, inviting me in.

She does taste like mint. And rum and lime. And I have missed these lips. I kiss her again and again. There is no way I could ever get enough. She kisses me back just as feverishly, pressing her body into mine, our tongues caressing, teeth nipping. My dick is straining to get out of my pants and just fucking into her.

“Spencer.” My name is a sigh on her lips that I can barely hear over the pounding beat of the music.

And then I say the hardest words I’ve ever had to say in my life.

“If I take you home with me, will you regret this in the morning?”

Her eyes blink open, hazy with lust and I want to take the question back. But I think it might kill me if she regrets it, so I wait.

“I—I don’t know.”

I nod, grateful that she didn’t try to lie to me or to herself.

---