His eyebrows shoot up and he glances around for a beat.
“You’re drunk, Karessa.”
“I’m sober enough to want a kiss!” I yell.
Oran leans in like he’s negotiating with a terrorist. Too late, the moment passed. Using my fingertips, I push him away by his lips.
“Forget it,” I tell him. I shimmy off the barstool. “I’ll just go to bed and try again tomorrow.”
I throw the peace sign over my shoulder, plod to the room like a misunderstood child, and face plants on the bed.
I’ll be an adult tomorrow.
* * *
Oran
“Ooookay,” I mumble to myself as I polish off the food.
I knew about her teenage crush, but her drunk rant gives me feelings I don’t want to explore. Pouring myself a drink, I attempt to wrap my mind around being the one ‘thing’ someone always wanted. In the States, it was just my mother and me. She was an orphan and vowed that any child of hers would know what it’s like to be loved by his or her parents. She exceeded her goal. She was always my favorite person, even as a moody teen. Elmer didn’t want me around unless it suited his tastes. He only taught me the business so he could keep his wealth up and continue to win in his retirement. Jagger is my best friend and I know he loves having me around, I don’t doubt that for a second, but he has his own life.
The way Karessa lamented made me sound like an unattainable goal. The prize she could never win. Her white whale.
I’m right here.
Terms and conditions.
I’m assuming she’d finally read that bullshit prenup of hers. I know it’s not ideal, but people get married to stay together forever. Granted, we were forced into marriage so we have a learning curve. We didn’t know each other our entire lives like Jag and Ainslee.
Opting to leave the topic until she’s sober, I focus on what I can control. I’d purchased provisions for su
ch an occasion but didn’t think I’d have to use them this soon.
After gathering the items, I get to work putting everything together. Twenty minutes later, I’m pushing the door open to our room.
Karessa is lying diagonally across the bed on her stomach in just her underwear. Some of her hair is stuck to her face and her eyes are closed. Part of me is happy she’s a sad drunk because I’d have issues fighting off a horny and drunk version of her.
I think she’s asleep until she grumbles. “What do you want?”
“Want to talk about it?” She’s adorable as hell when she blows a raspberry. “Well, how about some white cheddar mac and cheese with bacon?”
Her eyes pop open and she happily sits up and crosses her legs, making a “gimmie” motion with her fingers and not caring that her bare tits are melting my mind.
I sit on the edge of the bed facing her.
She takes a generous scoop and sighs when it’s in her mouth.
“This is so good. Where did you order it?” she mocks me with a drunken smirk.
“I deserved that.” I test the waters. “I’m guessing you read your prenup.”
“You mean that load of bullshit that’s somehow legal?” She says around a mouthful of noodles.
“Yeah. And I take it you’re still deciding what to do about it.”
“Yeah. I’m processing.”
“Then what do you want me to get for you to wear?”