The sound sends a shock through me.
“Your hand feels good on my skin,” she mumbles, sinking into the couch.
“Do you want a foot rub?” I ask, taking the other off as she lifts her leg out to me.
She rolls her eyes. “Do you ask all yourinterior designersthat?”
“There’s thatjealousyI know and love,” I grin. Her face turns bright red as she looks up at me from under her lashes, her lids heavy.
She sighs. “Actually, let me make you a drink, andthenyou can rub my feet.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“The occasion is me wanting another drink,” she says as if it’s the dumbest question in the entire world.
She peels herself off the couch slowly, nearly falling as she makes her way to the bar.
I watch as she gets out all the necessary tools to make something complicated, but in the end, she adds some ice cubes to two glasses and pours whiskey over them.
She comes back with both, handing me mine quietly. “I owe you a drink,” she whispers after taking a sip.
“This is a drink.”
“No, a real drink. This is whisky.”
I don’t press the matter; instead, I let her go.
She sits, a little alcohol tipping over the side of her glassand onto the absolutely disgusting green rug she brought into my place a bit ago.
I’ve told her it’s grown on me to make her happy. She loves the thing.
I would rather it be anywhere else.
“I was a really good bartender,” she mutters, lifting the glass to her lips. “I actually really miss it.”
“Why don’t you do it again?”
She scowls at me, and I put my hands up in surrender. “Okay, sorry I asked,” I chuckle.
“No, don’t be sorry,” her head rests on the back of the couch. “I just don’t like people all that much.”
I snort, because of course that’s the issue. She’s said that much.
Her head whips to me, her brows furrowed, her lips in a perfect pout. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I just think it’s cute, is all,” I admit, downing the rest of my drink.
She looks at hers, making a face before handing it over to me with a frown. “I need you to take this from me.”
“Why?”
“I really,reallydon’t want to do something I’ll regret in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
Her eyes grow larger than Fluffernutter’s. “Ever?”
I shake my head with a smirk. “When you can consent to me touching you like that, I can assure you, I would do anything you ask of me.”
