Inside, he stomps to the kitchen, pulling out a bag of frozen carrots, then grabs the bottle of whiskey. He takes a swig and hisses as the liquid hits his busted lips.
He leans against the counter and places the carrots against his jaw, the bottle dangling from his other hand. His blue eyes are stormy, and yet almost vulnerable.Almost. He has too many walls up to ever let anyone close enough to be truly vulnerable.
I know I should leave him alone. But something forces me to stay.
“So, that was your brother?” I regret the words the second I say them.
He glares at me.
“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Ye think I bleedin’ care if it did?”
“Yeah, I do.” I cross my arms and glare back.
“Ye’re wrong.” He takes another deep swallow from the bottle.
I sigh, removing the distance between us, and take the whiskey from his hand.
“Am I?” I put the bottle to my mouth and tilt it back. I don’t need anything more to drink, but after emptying the contents of my stomach, then witnessing an all-out brawl, I’m feeling way too sober for what I’m about to do.
“Ye’re drunk.”
“A little.” I put the bottle on the counter, my breast brushing against his arm when I lean across him.
He watches me, brows drawn down, a scowl pulling at his lips.
I place my palms on his stomach, feeling his abs tense under my touch. He lets out a low growl, but doesn’t move away.
“Ye’re lookin’ for trouble, aren’t ye?”
“I am.”
He puts the bag of carrots down, then captures my wrists when I start to slide them up his chest.
“Delaney. Ye’re a nice girl–”
“Right.” I start to pull away, feeling the rejection in his words, but he doesn’t release me.
He’s watching me, blatant hunger in his gaze. There’s no attempt to hide the lust that burns there. So why is he fighting it?
“I just want to make sure ye know what ye’re doing.”
I blink up at him. “I have no clue. But I know I want this.”
“Sex,” he says roughly, moving closer. “That’s what ye want? ‘Cause that’s all it can be.”
I nod. My stomach dips like I’m falling, and my heart thumps radically in my chest.
Please, my body begs.
He exhales heavily, and I can’t read what he’s thinking. I half expect him to push me away. Instead, he takes my hand and starts to lead me down the hall towards the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I frown when he turns the shower on.
“We both could use a shower.” He winks, and I follow his gaze down, wincing when I see the splatter of vomit on my shirt.
“Oh my God.”