Jesus.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
He reaches for my glass and smacks it down on the bar. “That shit’s strong, and you haven’t eaten.”
“It’s like a liquid meal. You know, like a smoothie, or a protein shake,” I say, making my grabby hands. “Gimme, goddammit.”
“No.”
“Who do you think you are, taking that away from me? And did you cheat on her with me, because that, my friend, is low, like snake-in-the-grass-on-his-belly low.” My voice is all slurred, but I don’t care.
“She’s a friend of my parents who happens to be in town, and they managed to strong-arm me into escorting her to a bullshit benefit thing I don’t even want to go to. I don’t want to go so badly, I actually forgot all about it. Which is perfectly fine with me, because I had a distinct feeling she was using me, and I won’t allow myself to be used.”
“Well. Now that’s a thorough answer,” I say out loud, while in my head, I tell him all the ways I would absolutely love to use him.
“I’m sorry about the interruption,” he says, stepping toward me, and once again his masculine scent wafts over me, his voice vibrates straight through me, and liquid heat pools at my core.
“Oh, you anything didn’t interrupt,” I say, then frown because that sounds wrong. “You didn’t interrupt a thing. I was just opening up the laptop and we were not making out anymore.”
I tap in the password on his keyboard and open a browser.
“So you’re not angry?” He sounds incredulous. “How could you not be angry?”
He comes up behind me on the barstool and reaches for my shoulders. Oh. Oh, wow. Those strong fingers massage my shoulders and my eyes flutter closed. It feels so good.
“Why would I be angry?” I manage to slur out.
“It was rude. I didn’t know she was coming. She was a bitch to you.”
I snort. “Whatever. Bitches are so last Tuesday.”
He brushes a strand of hair off my forehead, then slides a finger under my chin so I look up at him. My heart does a little thump. I like that move. I like it a lot.
“I told you not to drink any more,” he says, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “And you did it anyway.”
“Mhm.” Why yes, yes I did. Maybe he’ll punish me. Why does that sound hot? “I did, didn’t I? Although,” I say through thick lips and is my tongue swollen? “I don’t recall giving you permission to boss me around.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. Stubble pricks gently.
Zing.
“You gave me permission to boss you around by stepping foot into my house. Your words, remember? His house, his rules.”
I did say that, didn’t I?
I lean toward him. “And what, pray tell, would you do to a girl who broke your rules?”
Spanking? My mind suggests helpfully.
He shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry to say,” he says in a tone that isn’t sad at all, “I’d have to punish her.”
Oh my God that sounds so hot.
“Doesn’t it, though?” he says.
“Doesn’t it what?”
“Sound hot.”
So, yeah, didn’t mean to say that out loud.
He takes a step back and rolls up his sleeves like that stern professor I have in my mind, the one that plays on an endless loop when a girl needs a quick and dirty fantasy.
“Do you have a pair of glasses?”
A corner of his lips quirks up. “Glasses?”
Oops. Said that out loud, too.
“Yes,” I say in a breathy whisper, all semblance of professionalism gone. “Glasses. You’d look like a stern professor ready to paddle me for being late to class.”
Shiver.
His eyes blaze. “I have a whiteboard in my office,” he adds, then lowers his voice. “Young lady.”
I squeeze my eyes tight and ball my fists in excitement. “Oh my God. And do you have a desk you could bend me over?”
He nods soberly. “I do. I so do.”
No. I can’t do this.
I shake my head, clearing my foggy brain. “No, we have work to do.”
He clucks his tongue. “It’s been a long day, Samantha. But we could—”
“No,” I sigh.
It has been a long day. Oh my God, it so has. But I can’t let this happen. I’m basically using him, and that’s not okay. Plus, I’m tipsy as fuck.
“And tomorrow, we’ll sit down with Toni and get all the information we can.”
He sighs and nods. “I have to admit, I don’t know much of anything at all about her and her mother. I really don’t.”
Right, so that makes sense, and totally frees up the rest of the evening.
I slam the laptop shut and yawn widely. The stairs seem so far away. Steep. Distant. Work. I lay my head on my arm on the counter.
“You’re tired,” he says. Good thing I’m the one doing the investigating here because his detective skills are kinda entry-level.
His hand rests at the small of my back. I close my eyes. I like the feel of it there, all warm and comforting.