Say You're Mine(11)

She knew it. He did, too. Or at least, she assumed he did.

They’d never actually talked about it…until tonight, when he’d asked her if she ever thought about the two of them. About what it would be like. She had. Lots.

But she’d never admit it out loud.

So what if she’d never find out what it was like to have Steven look at her as if he needed her more than he needed air, or water, or life itself? That was a good thing.

Or so she kept telling herself anyway.

Plastering on a smile, she turned to him. “Cupcake?”

“Of course.” He smiled and took it. He always did. “Thanks.”

When he took the treat, his fingers brushed hers as he tugged it out of her hand, and Lauren clenched her jaw at the inevitable rush of lust that swept through her veins at the touch. That was nothing new. Her inability to ignore it, however, was.

She blamed his odd behavior from earlier tonight.

Giving him her back, she pulled out a shot glass. She could still smell the whiskey on Steven. She probably ruined the second part of his evening when she called, but for some reason, she wasn’t sorry. She poured a shot of rum and tossed it back, shuddering at the burn.

He chewed on his cupcake contemplatively, watching her closely as she immediately poured another, and tossed that one back, too. When she poured a third, he shook his head. “Lauren.”

“I’m fine. Just one more, and I’ll be good.”

Steven made a disgruntled sound and covered her hand with his. Gently, he pried the bottle out of her hands. His hand was warm and calloused, and it made her want to ignore the voices in her head for once. To take what she wanted. Him.

Always had. Always would.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m not about to watch you drink a whole damn bottle of rum.” He eyed her with concern. “That won’t help you with anything.”

She forced a smile. “It works for you, right?”

“No.” He flexed his jaw. “It doesn’t.”

She tossed back the shot she’d poured before he took it away, too. Of course, he faced away from her to set the bottle back on the counter, so he missed it, but she didn’t miss the way his navy pants hugged his rear to perfection. Screw Superman. This man had buns of steel. Maybe if she told him that, he would push her against a wall and follow through on—oh, crap.

The alcohol was giving her bad, bad thoughts.

Since she couldn’t stop staring at his butt, she turned around and faced the wall, gripping the counter so hard her knuckles ached. “Then why do you keep doing it? And why can’t I? What makes us any different?”

“Drinking to drown your worries and fears only makes everyone else worry about you more. And it makes me—” He broke off, cursing under his breath. “I…you…shit. Your drinking was all to show me I’m being an idiot and making you worry all the time, isn’t it?”

Not turning around, she lifted a shoulder. “Ding ding ding.”

When he came up behind her, his Hugo Boss cologne washed over her, and the heat of his body touched hers. He was so big and hard and comforting, and she was this close to throwing herself into his arms and never letting go…

Screw the consequences.

“Well played.”

A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Point?”

“Yours,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But what did I tell you at the party?”

That you were going to throw me up against a wall and take me roughly? “Uh…”

“If you want to talk about my drinking?” Gently, he turned her around and rested his hand on her shoulder. The other reached out and brushed her hair out of her face. “Then your love life is fair game, too.”

His sweet touch, paired with his soft voice, and the way he looked at her as if she meant a whole lot more to him than she should, warred with his strong and possessive hold on her shoulder. The contrast did things to her it shouldn’t. Things that were a heck of a lot harder to ignore with two and a half shots of rum in her belly.

What was wrong with her?

She licked her lips. “Well, then, by all means. Speak.”

“Oh, I will.” He moved even closer, his gaze locked on her mouth. Why was the urge to close her eyes and lift her face to his so strong? “Are you scared?”

Terrified, actually. But not of what he might say. She was scared of the feelings coming to life inside of her. They were strong, and real, and they wouldn’t go away. For just a night, she wanted him, to be with him, and she didn’t care if it was a bad idea.

He glanced down, watching the path her tongue left, and took a small step closer. “Brian was a douche, and so was every guy before him. You keep dating men who don’t deserve you, and it pisses me the hell off.”