Page 87 of Told You So
“Well, I guess we’ll find out.” He laughs to himself. “I think you’re going to hate it, actually.”
“What?” I smack his shoulder playfully. “Then why the hell are you making it for me?”
“Because I want to see your face when you drink it. Women make the best faces when they drink alcohol they don’t like.”
“We do?”
He nods. “Yes, trust me. I would know. I get to watch it all the time. And you should see Mac’s face when she drinks beer. It’s sort of magical, actually.” He mixes a shot of whiskey and red vermouth together, then adds a dash of bitters.
“I’ll have to keep a straight face then, won’t I?” I say stubbornly.
“Ohhh, is that a challenge?” His eyes widen with glee as he stirs the contents together. “Where’s Mac’s camera when I need it.” He winks at me and hands me my drink. “Here ya go, mi’ lady.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to get me drunk on a school night, by any chance, would you?”
“Ha! You’re the one who brought over a bag of mixers and wanted to create a bar menu, which is really fun, by the way.”
Skeptical, I take the glass and sniff the amber contents. My first impulse is to shake my head. It doesn’t smell fantastic, sort of sweet and sour all at once, but I don’t let it show on my face.
Nick’s amusement is enough to bolster my determination to accept his challenge, and I take a sip. I swallow it immediately, without letting it settle on my tongue or fumigate the inside of my mouth. I breathe out and try to appreciate the aromatics of it all.
“What are you, a professional? What are you doing?”
“I saw it on TV once.” I lick my lips and shrug. “It’s okay, not absolutely horrible.” I take another sip to show Nick I’m no sissy-lala who can’t handle my booze.
“That’s it, huh? That’s all I get, a shoulder shrug?” He shakes his head and takes the last swig of his martini.
I hand him my glass. “You should try it.”
“Oh, I know what they taste like.” He leans back against the counter.
“Then you don’t mind having a taste,” I say, holding out the glass.
He shakes his head. His eyes are leveled on me. “I’m not a fan of vermouth,” he admits, his voice low.
I take a step closer to him. “No? Worried you might make a face if you try it?” I goad him.
“I won’t make a face.”
I take another step, licking my lips. “Just a taste?” I purr.
Nick sets his glass down on the counter next to him with a clank, but his hand lingers there, waiting for me to make a move.
I stop when my breasts touch his chest and my hips meet his. Feeling the bulge in his pants, I press my hips harder against him.
He lets out a quick, heavy breath, his hazel eyes eager as they scour my face. We don’t say anything for what feels like minutes. We stare and gauge one another. I test him. And feel the tension in his body coil against me.
My hand brushes against his erection as I reach down between us, and I revel in the way his body trembles, trying to hold itself together. He purses his lips, and I wonder how long he can manage before he takes me right here on the kitchen table.
I grab him through the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, letting his warmth seep into my palm. I squeeze my hand softly around him, reveling in my power over him in this moment. I’m winding up a beast; I know that and welcome it. Tonight, I don’t want to know what’s black and white or up and down.
Untying his waist string, I reach inside. The moment I feel him, his eyes shut and he lifts his face to the ceiling and groans, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” he grinds out.
“Actually, I think I do.” I lift up onto tiptoes to whisper in her ear. “And I’m loving every minute of it.” My tongue snakes out and licks his ear before I pull it between my teeth, biting him gently and squeezing him in my hand at the same time.
“Fuck this,” he growls, and his hands wrap around my waist and lift me onto the table.
Later, I wake up, naked. I peer around the dark room, recognizing Nick’s dresser, realizing I’m in his bed. I let out a sigh of exhaustion and contentment and turn over to find he’s not there.
