I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling. “Viola…why did you drink so much?”
“To piss you off, and because I can.”
I press my lips in a firm line. “Put your arms up,” I demand. “You need to change out of this thing you call a dress.”
“Well, you wanted me to wear it,” she says matter-of-factly, her words slurring together. She finally raises her hands above her head and waits.
“I didn’t even know you were going out tonight.” The annoyance isn’t hidden in my tone. I brush my fingers along the bottom of her dress and pull it slowly over her hips, her waist, her chest, and then finally, over her arms and head.
“Why’d you take my clothes then?” She arches a brow as I toss her dress on the floor. She tilts her head, challenging a response.
I swallow. Removing her dress was a bad fucking idea.
She’s wearing a lacy bra and panties to match. I fight the urge to touch her, and by the way she’s looking at me, I can see she’s fighting it, too.
“Not to mention, you only left me with thongs and my one lace bra.”
The corner of my lips tilts as I think about how pissed she probably was when she noticed. “Yeah, I’m only slightly regretting that right now.”Reallyregretting that decision.
“Oh, Travis King,” she drawls out, biting her lower lip. “You’ve seen me naked already, remember?”
Oh, I remember. It’s fucking burned in my brain.
“I mean, if you preferred to see me in sexy lingerie, all you had to do was ask.” Her eyes sparkle up at me, and now I’m positive she’s not going to remember any of this in the morning.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. She’s seriously testing my self-control right now.
“I think you should get some sleep,” I say, directing her under the covers. “You’ll be feeling it in the morning.”
“Oh, Mr. Boss Man,” she mocks again, pouting her lips together.
“Viola…” I growl, pleading with her not to test me. “Get under the covers.”
“Are you going to make me? Because I wish you would.”
Fuck, I wish I had my phone with me to record her saying that. This isn’t the Viola I’ve come to know. She’s spent the last decade hating me. I know her well, though, and she’ll hate me again once the alcohol wears off.
“What would you like, Viola? Tell me,” I challenge.
“Kiss me,” she says, her eyes looking up at me, pleading for me to do it.
I arch a brow, shocked she actually had the balls to say it. Part of me is tempted to kiss those lips and make her swallow her words, but the other part knows if I start, I may never be able to stop.
I grin down at her, tucking her in. She continues staring at me, as if she’s waiting. I lean down, letting my lips linger over hers. Her chest pumps up and down, her shallow breaths hits against my stubble.
“Princess…” I say just above a whisper, her back arching closer into me. “I don’t kiss virgins either.” My lips form into a cocky grin, knowing she’s about to scream at me.
Her blue eyes narrow, and she pushes against my chest with both hands. “Fuck you, Travis.”
There’s the Viola I know.
I lean off the bed and chuckle at her. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” I pull the covers up to her collarbone. “Get some sleep.”
“I bet you don’t have the balls to kiss me, Travis King. You’re all talk and no walk. Can’t say I’m really surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but—”
I cut her words off with my mouth, pressing my lips to hers and opening them with my tongue. I don’t wait for her permission—I take what I want, knowing it’s exactly what she wants.
She releases a deep, throaty moan, and I catch it with my mouth, which only encourages me to continue. Her lips are warm and taste like the cranberry vodka she was drinking.