Damn it. I wish he’d said something to piss me off; then I’d have had a reason to kick him out.
I shouldn’t be looking for a reason – I should simply tell him to leave, like the reasonable woman I am. Maybe I should never have let him in in the first place. But I was hungry, and the smell of meat made me confused. Besides, he’d sent away my dinner. What was I supposed to do? Die of starvation? Probably, yes; especially after our kiss the other night.
We had five minutes left of our truce, we’d had a perfectly lovely evening. But he had those eyes, and that mouth, and those hands –those damn hands– which I still dream about every night.
I’m in big trouble, and it’s all my fault. And, apparently, I have no intention of getting out of it.
“What are you doing?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re pulling strange faces.”
“Really?”
“It’s like you’re talking to yourself.”
“I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He bursts out laughing as he reaches for the bottle, pouring me another glass of wine.
“Only half,” I tell him.
I need to stay focused tonight, or I’ll end up riding him again…
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’d be much better if there were a dessert in that bag, too.”
He laughs again, reaching inside and pulling out two plastic containers. “Apple crumble or chocolate cheesecake?”
“Definitely the chocolate one.”
He hands me the dessert. “You’re lucky I love anything with apples in it.”
“Does that mean you wouldn’t have let me have the chocolate one?”
“That depends on what I’d have got in return.”
I clear my parched throat and grab my glass, drowning my response with wine. Niall Kerry is a bad influence on me, especially in my own house. Especially on my sofa – where I believe we stopped off briefly during our wild night last week. Andespeciallyif I’ve drunk a few glasses of wine; even more so after dinner and dessert. I have absolutely no hope of coming out of this alive if he looks at me again with those eyes.
Why didn’t I like him when we were at school? What’s changed? Sure, he’s charming; and the way he talks should be illegal. Maybe it’s nothing to do with him or what he does. Maybe it’s more to do with me.
When I was younger, I tried so hard to be the best at everything, to excel in everything I did. I always wanted to make the best decisions, to be a good girl, who made her parents proud. And he would have led me astray, irreparably broken my heart. Well, now my heart is already broken. I’ve lived through every possible type of disappointment. I feel as if I have nothing to lose – letting go every once in a while might be good for me. I think I want a bad boy, for once.
I think I’ve drunk too much.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Pulling those faces.” He gestures towards my expression. “Are you talking to yourself?”
“Maybe…a little.”
