CHLOE: Not a good idea.
WARREN: Staying hydrated is very important.
CHLOE: Goodnight, Warren.
WARREN: Goodnight, Dove.
CHLOE: Dove?
He doesn’t respond before I can no longer fight my closing eyes. I settle back onto the bed and touch my lips with my finger. They’re swollen and warm, even still.Helluva kiss indeed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sleep, in combination with the lack of alcohol in my system, has brought rational thought back into the loft. There’s no sense denying it was a great kiss—incredible even—but it will be just the one. That is final. Even if my vagina begs to differ.I’m in control here, dammit.
Willow coos from the bassinet beside my bed, and I bring her into my lap to lie lengthways against my thighs, raising my knees to take a good look at her little face. She has been much more expressive lately, giving smiles that I know are only for me.
“I won’t mess this up for you, kiddo. I promise,” I whisper to her as I brush her soft cheek with my finger. No amount of strikingly handsome men in this world could make me risk this little girl’s well-being. Even if they happen to live downstairs. Even if they happen to kiss likethat.
My strategy is to be bold, direct, and clear. I have repeated those three words to myself a dozen times this morning already.“Bold, direct, clear,”I mutter once again, as I step off the stairs into the dining room.
Annnd he’s shirtless.Well played, Warren.
I don’t put Willow down in her chair as I normally do to make her bottle. Instead, I carry her to the kitchen, holding her tightly in my grasp. This poor baby is a human shield far too often.
“Morning.” Warren glances up and down my body, grinning wide, as he flips a pancake on the stove. Pancakes too?He’s playing chess while I play checkers.
“Sup.”Sup?Breathe, Chloe. Keep it simple. Get a bottle. Mix it. Sit on the couch. Feed Willow. The couch faces away from the kitchen—get there, and you’ll be safe.Safe from the view of his abs—sweet mercy.
“How was your night?” Warren asks as he takes Willow from my arms as I struggle to open the formula.Shit, my shield…
“Fine.” I project my voice with the confidence of an unbothered woman, but I still don’t look at him. He’s far too close and far too naked.
“Mine was fantastic, thanks for asking. I had this amazing dream… maybe you could translate it for me?” Warren’s smugness is radiating off him, and whether I choose to look at him or not, I can see it. He wants to get under my skinandinto my bed, apparently. “Imagine it. This woman and I were kissing, right? And it was incredible, like damn near perfect, but then—”
“Shit!” I interrupt, having spilled a good three bottles’ worth of formula all over the kitchen counter and floor. I try to brush as much as possible back into the container with the back of my hand—this counter’s clean enough, right?
Warren grimaces as he shifts to hold Willow in one arm, using his free hand to flip another pancake onto the plated stack next to the stove.
As I finally finish sweeping the last of the formula off the floor, Warren is feeding Willow a bottle he must’ve made when I was cleaning up. Her little hand fiddles with the black cord around his neck as she drinks. He carries both her and the plate of pancakes to the dining table.
I have about fifteen seconds before this morning is so perfect—minus the spill—that I won’t be able to bring myself to say anything at all.
“We need to talk about last night,” I blurt as I fall into the dining chair across from Warren.
“Go for it.” Warren adjusts the bottle in Willow’s mouth. The side of her head is pressed into his bare chest.Lucky.
I clear my throat. “Okay. So… obviously we both agree that last night was—”
“What part?” Warren is a good actor. I’ll give him that. I almost believe he doesn’t know what I’m referencing, but the twitch of his lip gives him away.
“The kissing part?”
“Oh! Right,that. Nice work, by the way.” Warren’s smirk is sexy and not helpful.
“Mm-hmm, thanks. Anyway, I want to be clear—”
“Don’t you mean bold, direct,andclear?”
