Chapter 6
Liv
It wasthe wine’s fault.
The wine was making me picture him naked. I couldn’t stop from envisioning him in front of the stove, broad tan muscular shoulders, tendons and muscles moving under the skin as he stirred whatever he was stirring in that copper pot. In my head, he was wearing a barely there black apron. It tented impressively in the front, but the back, the back was open and the most glorious ass peeked out.
Stupid wine.
“I hope the spaghetti is okay,” he said over his shoulder. “I make a killer meat sauce.” He suddenly spun around; wooden spoon splashing crushed tomatoes everywhere. “You eat meat, right?”
“I fuckinglovemeat,” I purred, feeling my face flush with heat.Stupid, stupid wine.
A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.
I poured him more wine when he turned back around.
My knees felt loose, and my shoulders warm and weak.I wonder where his bedroom is; the wine whispered to me.
I needed to stop myself. This was not the road I wanted to travel down with this…gorgeous, sexy as hell man, the wine cut through my thoughts.
I pushed the glass of wine away—a little spilled over the rim, dripping onto my fingers. I immediately licked them clean like an animal. Dean looked over his shoulder at me again, narrowing his eyes.
I pretended not to notice and sat on my hands.
Here’s the truth: When, no,ifI slept with him, he’d never speak to me again. I’d just be some alcohol fueled one-night mistake that both of us would hardly remember and totally regret. That was the absolute truth.
So, I thought about piss-stained mattresses, broken bottles, and the stench of burnt onions that still seemed to be stuck in my nose. Embarrassingly, my stomach gurgled out some strange sort of loud mating call.How long did sauce take to make?I blinked at the countertop where our empty wine bottles stood as straight as soldiers. Apparently, it took three full bottles of wine to make a meat sauce. The room started to spin. How in the world did my mother want to feel like this every day?
If you walked up behind him and pressed your bare chest against his back what do you think he’d do?The wine asked in a sing-songy drunken voice.
Shush up, wine.
Let him lick me off your body, the wine purred, pushing me forward.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grumbled, trying to sit still on my chair.
“What?” Dean asked, spinning around.
The wine danced and flipped around, low in my belly. She needs a big thick throbbing—. “Nothing. Sorry,” I said before the wine told him all my secrets.
If Dean and I had sex right now, it would be sloppy and stupid. We would grab onto the wrong things, bruise each other with awkward elbows or knees, and fall off the bed. An ambulance might even have to get called. I laughed out loud accidentally. Remembering my last drunk sexcapade. I was barred from a whole foods store because of it, in an inexplicable twist. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, losing count on four separate occasions.
He brought the spoon to his lips and tasted his cooking.Imagine if that was your…NO! I growled at the wine, deep in the base of my throat.
Would it be weird to him if I just walked into his bathroom and turned on a cold shower and stepped in? I think he’d think that was weird. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. Or a drunk.
A drunk like my mother.
“Um…Uh,” I stammered, jumping up and leaning my hands heavily on the table. “Where’s your bathroom?”
He didn’t turn around again, thank God, he just pointed his free hand toward the hallway. “Second door on the right.”
Of course, I walked into the first one, which was a closet, and practically got sexually assaulted by a leather motorcycle jacket. At least, I had the head not to scream like a banshee even though my heart was drumming wildly in my chest.
I have no idea how I made it to the bathroom, but I did. I splashed water on my neck and face and tried desperately to gain control of my runaway thoughts. Leaning my mouth under the facet, I gulped down as much water as I could before attempting to fix my face in the three circling reflections of myself in the mirror.
It was a lost cause.
