Page 112 of Tangled Kisses
Reese snorts, shaking her head. “No. I’m not sexy. I’m funny and smart and clever with terrible taste in men.”
“Youusedto have terrible taste in men,” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “But it’s looking up now. And Christ, you’re so fucking sexy it kills me.”
She rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath, but I push anyway.
“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.” Reaching out, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my hand linger.
Reese shrugs away from my touch, but I see the hint of color climbing her neck. “Nothing. Will you stop touching me?”
“No,” I growl, dragging my fingers along her jaw, down the line of her throat. “I love touching you. And I think you love it, too. In fact, I think you like me. A whole damn lot.”
At least, I pray you do.
Although after her one-eighty earlier today, I’m not sure anymore.
Her gaze dips, softer now. “That’s the trouble. I more than like you.”
This time I hear the words. Clear as day. And it’s enough. Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that alcohol doesn’t hide the truth—it drags it out, raw and unpolished.
It also softens the edges. Otherwise, drunk dialing your ex wouldn’t be a common occurrence, along with drunk hookups with said ex.
Just saying.
Reese is angry. She’s fighting me every step of the way. But underneath it all, she cares.
Right now, that’s enough.
The jukebox flips, and a new song pours out of the speakers.
Reese rests her chin on her hand with a wistful laugh. “Oh God, I love this song. They played it at every dance when I was a teenager.” Her smile falters. “Not that I ever got picked.”
I push off my stool and offer her my hand. “Then you’re getting picked tonight. Dance with me.”
Reese stares at my outstretched digits but doesn’t move. “I wasn’t dropping hints, Griffin.”
Wrapping my hand around her waist, I lift her from the stool. “Good thing I don’t wait for hints. Come on—let me spin you around the floor. Give you something to brag about at the high school reunion.”
Reese laughs and shakes her head as she slips her hand into mine. “Fine, but just because I like this song.”
“Obviously, since you’re still angry at me.”
“Exactly.”
I chuckle. “You sure about that?”
She wobbles her head from side to side, lips twitching. “Pretty sure. Yes.”
I grin, tugging her closer. “Is the whiskey softening you a little?”
“That might have something to do with it.”
“Then I’ll take what I can get,” I murmur, steering her toward the dance floor. “Because you’re still dancing with me.”
After finding us a small section of wood, I pull her close, her body fitting against mine like it was made for me. She’s so damn small—she barely comes up to my chest—but she fills every inch of the hollow space inside me.
“Know why you didn’t get picked?”
She spins once, coming back into my arms with a shrug. “Because I was tiny. Awkward. Glasses. That about sums it up.”
