Page 10 of Kiss Me Tonight

As in, I godown.

Weak, alcohol-inflicted legs.

Numb feet.

Worst-case scenario doesn’t even come close to doing this moment any justice—not the way I collapse, knees buckling, and go face-first into the Hulk’s crotch.

Face.

First.

Someone just put me out of my misery.

In my desperation to not end up on the floor, my hands snake out and find purchase wherever I can.

His legs, I think.

There’s a masculine grunt, loud enough for my sloshed brain to pick up on and send SOS signals sparking to high alert in my system.

Abort! ABORT!!!

The grunt is followed by a big hand cupping the back of my skull, and I’mdistinctlyaware of the barely restrained tension lacing those fingers. Pull me closer, push me away. He’s clearly stuck in limbo, and I’m on the verge of holing up in my house and becoming a hermit until the day I die.

I’ll miss the sunlight, but when the alternative is this . . .

“Jesus fuck.”

His obscenely uttered curse springs me into motion, which seems to shock him into action too. That hand drops to one of my shoulders, followed by the other one doing the same. He tows me upright so easily that air swoops in under my feet as my sneakers leave the floor.

“Jesusfuck.”

And I thought my dad had a potty mouth. Dad had nothing onthisguy.

Lurching backward, out of reach, I step back. Then do so again. Anything to put some much-needed space between us.

His hands find his narrow hips, his barrel chest expanding with an unsteady breath. “You’re absolutely trashed.” He says this like it’s a massive inconvenience, something he proves a moment later when he snags his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and drops cash on the bar. “I’m taking you home.”

I stare at him. “I don’t get in the car with strangers.”

“Considering where you just had your face, I’d say we’re practically best friends at this point.”

Heat stings my cheeks.

Shoving his wallet back in his jeans, arm muscles visibly bunching with just that slightest movement, he stands there, and I’m forced to tilt my headbackto look up at his face. Holy cow, is he tall. Way taller than I anticipated. Six-five, maybe. Six-six, probably.

“I ordered an Uber,” I inform him stiffly, if only to maneuver the conversation away from my all-too-inappropriate nosedive.

With a chuffed breath, the Hulk steers me toward the front door of the Golden Fleece. “The irony of modern-day living. You’re totally fine with jumping into some random person’s car without knowing anything about them but you won’t get in mine even after our delightful talk.”

“Delightful” sounds anything but, given the hostile way it comes out of his mouth.

Together, we step out into the crisp, Maine night. The scent of woods and ocean mingle like the most intoxicating cocktail. I inhale sharply, dredging up all that fresh goodness into my body. Living in Pittsburgh may have worked for my lifestyle with Rick, but Maine is the soothing balm to my soul. Like a salve being smoothed over all my cracked crevices and sharp craters.

The Hulk is ruining my salve.

“For the record,” I mutter, “I don’t know anything aboutyoueither.”

“You know I’m a ninety-percent asshole.”

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