Page 61 of Intense
“Then stop looking at me like you want me to.”
Our silence is charged.
A beat passes between us, and she lets out a laugh that throws me off guard.
“God, I hate you.”
I grin.
“No, you don’t.”
She opens her mouth, probably to argue, but the server returns with round six and cuts her off.
I raise the shot in salute.
“Ready to fall, Dr. Miller?”
She lifts hers. “You first, Dr. Quinn.”
I think she might be right.
We drink.
This one makes her wince. Just slightly, but I notice. I always do.
She pushes her curls back from her face. Straightens her spine.
But I’ve already won.
She won’t admit it.
But I can feel it.
Not the tequila.
Her.
I could taste her victory and her downfall in the same breath.
And I’m starving for both.
“Shall we go somewhere, maybe where our colleagues aren’t?” she asks, her eyes roaming the busy room.
“Yeah. Sure. I know some good places my friend owns. Can get us in anywhere.”
She rolls her eyes, and I tap my rings against the table.
She really needs to stop doing that to me, because the more I drink, the more likely I am to jump across the table and grab her throat.
And then who fucking knows what will happen between us.
A bloodbath or an incredible hate fuck.
Or something worse.
“Of course you can. Friends in all the right places,” she winks.
She thinks her words hurt me.
