And that unhinged glint in his eye?
Another point to me.
“Pack your bags for two days.”
“What?”
So he said it in English, “Pack. Two day.”
Why was it cute that he shifted languages when he thought I didn’t understand?Cute was not an adjective to call him. Dangerous. Hot. Those would do.
A waitress walked on by, and he called them over to grab two of the shot glasses I’d avoided earlier. He handed one to me. “Drink to us.”And he shot it back.
I lifted the little glass to my nose, assaulted by the stench of petrol-soaked apricot, and screwed up my nose.
“It’s pálinka,” he assured me with a light laugh.
“I’ve never had it.”And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Never?”
I shook my head and had another whiff.Yep. Still strong.
“It’s tradition,” he said and stepped closer to me, looking down at the shot glass, his nose nearly brushing my forehead. My pulse jumped. “But for your first time, you shouldn’t shoot it. Take a sip.”
I lifted it to my lips, inhaling the fruity fumes again.
“Let it sit.”
I did as I was told, blinking at the hot burn on my tongue, the warmth of apricot jam taking my senses.
“Hold it,” he demanded, his voice thick and low, and I gripped his wrist, trying not to tug his hand to my body. “Don’t swallow yet.”
It softened from harsh to soft and silky, the sweetness blooming across my tongue.
“Swallow.”
I did, jerking at the burn of my throat and opening my eyes to see his face inches above mine.
“Good girl. Now breathe.”
An absolute sucker for praise, I inhaled, and somehow the taste grew richer, the burn heated my chest.
His hand fell to my hip. “Thoughts?”
“It’s—it’s really good,” I said. “Not sure I could shoot it without getting heartburn though.”
He smiled and squeezed my hip. “You can taste it off my tongue if you’d like.”
I laughed, hand on his chest, and took another sip of the drink, following the steps he’d told me.
He watched me swallow, and my skin heated, overwhelmingly aware of the fact that he looked starved and I wanted him to eat me alive.
I cleared my throat. “Are we going to your house? For the two days?”
He shook his head and stepped back as the old ladies walked the steps into the house, throwing us daggers.
“Do you have anything else to wear?”
