And her passion was captivating.
“That’s why we are here, remember? Come on. Let’s go to the host and make ourselves visible.”
He tugged her out of the corner until she reluctantly followed, wine glass in her other hand as she licked her lips. His gaze flitted there. Something about the move felt familiar, nagging at his senses until he slowed down. He wondered if it meant he wanted to repaint her and capture those lips on print, then wondered if wanting to paint her also meant blooming with such insane yearning. When the voices surrounding them increased in volume, some words had her features lighting up before she took a celebratory sip of wine.
Like a switch flicked, the dam broke, and a memory gushed in to slam him to a halt. It stunned him for a second before he changed destination and took her back to where they came from, ignoring the soft and confused protest on her lips until they reached the same corner. Alexa’s mouth opened, ready to interrogate.
“I kissed you.”
“What?”
“When we were drunk. I kissed you. It’s coming back…you let me kiss you.”
Her mouth snapped shut. He looked at it, then looked at her.
“You kissed me back,” he continued, recalling that part in vivid detail: her mouth opening up to his, a breath of fresh air that had him sinking into her. Hot, hungry kisses assaulted his senses until he was reeling. “You responded so well. But you didn’t say a thing.”
“We were both—”
“You weren’t drunk,” he cut in. “Otherwise, you would have forgotten.”
Her words were in denial, but the haunted look in her eyes couldn’t lie. He latched on to it, refusing to break eye contact as he searched for the truth.
“Then you were,” she countered, breathless. Struggling to keep up the façade. “You drank too much. And it was bad enough that I didn’t stop you when you…Edmund?”
Belatedly, it registered that he had stepped closer, trapping her until there was no room to escape. Behind them, the art showcase and discussions continued, but they might as well have been a buzzing to his ears.
“I grew dizzy. If I didn’t, what would have happened upstairs in your apartment?”
Alexa had started nodding until the second part, when she froze. “Nothing. My son was….”
“Not there. You must have picked him up after. Or your aunt must have brought him home. It was just us, all alone. So, if I wasn’t dizzy….”
“Nothing would have happened,” she argued.
“I see.” He tilted his head…breathed her in. “Tell me you didn’t like the kiss.”
Her chin lifted. It brought her mouth closer to his. “I didn’t like the kiss.”
His thumb rubbed over her wrist. “I can feel your pulse pounding. I can hear the lie in your voice. We would have tumbled into your bed. We would have tasted each other and fucked.”
“Edmund!”
But her tone didn’t sound scandalized, only mortified—and underneath that mortification was something else, egging him on to keep going.
“Thoroughly, Alexa,” he rasped. “All night long, until we were drained out from all the positions we tried.”
“And it would have been a mistake.” Her palms slapped his chest. Then her fingers clung on to contradict her shaking head. “Me taking advantage of a drunk man. You are not attracted to me. You are not…”
“You don’t get to tell me what attraction is.” Then, “You lied to me.”
“I’m sorry.” Remorse coursed through, raw and sincere. “I didn’t…I didn’t think.”
Or maybe she thought about it too much, much like he was now.
“It’s okay. But I’m not going to lie to you.”
“Lie to me?”