Page 30 of Hothead

Dumb, drunken brain.

Not only were they now touching, but they were so close that other body parts were too. Body parts that had no business being in close contact together. And with nowhere to look but into his dark eyes, back were the palpitations.

“If you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to continue being a gentleman.”

“This is you being a gentleman?” she teased.

“This is me not tearing that sexy as fuck dress off with my teeth, so yeah, like a said ... gentleman.” His eyes never left hers. He must have noticed her quiver. There was no chance she would be able to hide anything from him right now.

“You want to tear my dress off with your teeth?”

Shut up. Stop talking. What the hell are you saying?

A devilish smile graced his lips. “You like that idea, huh?”

She couldn’t look at him anymore. Dropping her head, she chose to focus on their feet instead. It was the perfect time to remind herself of her plan. No flirting. No kissing. Platonic dancing only.

Yes, because all platonic dance partners tell you they want to tear your dress off with their teeth.

He wasn’t having any of it. Lifting one hand, she found it under her chin a second later, one big knuckle nudging her up until she was facing him again.

“Don’t hide from me, angel.Neverhide from me.” The vehemence in his voice only made her damn uncooperative body more excited. “You want me to stop talking, you tell me, okay? And I’ll always stop. I swear. You need to know that I would never purposely do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable. Ever.”

That’s why he thinks I’m hiding?

“That’s not ... I’m not uncomfortable. That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” She couldn’t stand the look of uncertainty creasing his brow.

“I-I ...” Her voice had gone quiet. “I like what you’re saying to me.”

His crooked smile stretched so wide she was worried for a moment it would hit his ears. “Yeah?”

She nodded. His ego had received enough words for today.

“Goddamnit, woman, if you weren’t so full of whiskey right now, I’d show you that there was a whole hell of a lot more of where that came from.”

Wait. Something clicked. She didn’t have to worry about succumbing to his seduction tonight. A man like Luke would never take advantage of her inebriated state. He probably wouldn’t even kiss her. Suddenly, she felt more relaxed.

“Take me home, Luke,” she beamed, wrapping her hands around his neck and clinging on.

With a bend of his knees, she was airborne in no time, folding her legs around Luke’s waist and drowning in deep brown.

***

When she asked Luketo take her home, what she meant washerhome. The guest cabin at the Evans ranch. What she didn’t mean was “Luke, take me back to your house and lay me in your bed,” which was exactly where she woke up. Not that she protested last night. As a matter of fact, despite the haze and the slight pounding of her head, she was beginning to remember that she was the one who got into his bed. And possibly insisted he get into it too. There may have even been begging.

It was a memory that was only getting clearer and more horrifying as she groaned into the pillow.

Why would whiskey betray me like that?!

Thank God she was alone. She was embarrassed enough. The last thing she needed was Luke having a front-row seat to smudged eye makeup and bad breath.

Just the thought of what a hot mess she probably was, was enough to drag her face from the pillow. She immediately saw a note on the nightstand, next to a tall glass of water and what looked to be a pack of painkillers.

Congratulations, you really outdid yourself this time, Bella.

She tutted to herself as she reached for the note, not bothering to sit up. She needed the covers to hide her shame for just a little bit longer.

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