Page 85 of Inflame

Clink.

Clink.

Clinnnk.

Clink-clink-clink.

I stop midbite and turn my seat so I can look Nic square in the face.

“Why?” I demand.

“Why what?”

“Why did you make Ethan accept a bet that involved me fucking my own boyfriend? Are you really into that type of watching thing? You’re a real sicko for involving me in your fetishes.”

“I didn’t make Ethan do anything,” Nic says matter-of-factly. He props his chin on the palm of his hand as he stares more than just at me—he stares inside me. Like he can see a part of me that I usually keep hidden from others. “I presented him with an offer. He easily accepted. Granted, I was still shocked. If you were mine, I would have never shared you with anyone—not even just their eyes. So if you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at him.”

“I am mostly mad at myself,” I say solemnly.

“And why is that, Claire?”

“Because I could easily have left you both in the hotel room to have your own jerk-off fest. Instead, I participated.” And that is something I have to come to terms with. Why did I allow myself to be that vulnerable when I could easily have said “no.” Was it because I was scared of the arbitrary consequences of my refusal that would have been brought to Ethan’s life? “What would he have gotten if he won?”

“My car.”

I can feel my jaw lose control and drop. “Your car,” I repeat.

“Yes.”

“So, you would have just handed it over just like that?”

“I would have signed over the title and gone about it in a legal way, yes. That’s how bets work. Someone wins. Someone loses.”

“So why does my boyfriend”—who is an asshole—“choose something that is tangible, that he can easily take from you? But you, Nic, choose something that is what”—I toss a hand toward him—“a memory?”

“Anexperience,” he interjects.

“Seems like an imbalance of prizes, don’t you think?”

“On the contrary, I gained something even better than a memory or a fleeting visual,” he comments, finishing the last few drops of the amber-colored liquid.

“And what did you gain?” I inquire. We are talking in circles. I can’t tell if I am getting dizzy from the alcohol or Nic’s lack of adequate conversational skills.

His large hand engulfs mine. “You’re a very intelligent woman, Claire. Think about it. I basically shot bullet holes into the foundation of your relationship, exposing your boyfriend’s true colors.”

I remove his hand from mine. I need to think clearly. The margies and pancakes are making everything worse. He knows my weaknesses. He is capitalizing on every single one of them. “For what gain?”

He shrugs. “I have my selfish reasons."

I huff out an exhale and shove the plate of adorable pancakes away. I already ate a dozen, so there’s no reason to self-destruct any more than I did up in Ethan’s room. I make eye contact with Nic. It is a mistake. His amused expression is making me crazy.

His hand massages the stubble on his chin.

“Aim higher and maybe you’ll actually be able to wipe that smirk from your stupid face.”

“You want me, don’t you?”

I open my mouth. Then quickly shut it. If I deny too quickly, he’ll think I’m lying. If I delay my answer, he’ll think my answer is what he is assuming in the first place. Shit.

---