“Mm-hmm,” I hum, clasping his shoulders to steady myself. “Just thirsty.”
Once I’m barefoot, I fill glasses of water for each of us, and we collapse on the sofa. The move causes my dress to slip up my thighs, but I quickly tug it down.
“I had fun tonight.”
“Me too. It was nice to be back on stage without—” I snap my mouth shut before I saywithout being judged by the way I look. “It was nice to be back on stage.”
Ezra assesses me, his eyes searching for answers, but he doesn’t press. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to do for an audition?”
I bark out a laugh. “Fuck a chair.”
He chokes in surprise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re kidding.”
“I swear.”
“Can I see?”
“I destroyed the evidence after I didn’t get a callback.”
“I mean…” He clears his throat. “Right now.”
I set my glass down and cross my arms. “You want me to fuck a chair? In front of you? Have you lost your damn mind?”
If he juts out that pouty lip again, I don’t think I could resist. Fortunately, he changes the subject.
“Thanks for taking me out tonight.” He pulls my feet onto his lap and rubs his thumbs along my arches.
I sink deeper into the sofa in response. God, he’s good at that.
“You’re welcome. Thanks for not fighting me on it. Everyone deserves to be celebrated on their birthday.”
“Is that so?” he asks, his fingers venturing to my calves.
Static crawls across my skin.That’s nice. The move is an unconscious one, but I soak in the sensation anyway.
I feel bad that I didn’t get him a birthday gift, so with the ounce of liquid courage I have left, I swing my leg across his lap and straddle him.
He gasps, his hands gripping my thighs.
Without giving myself a moment to chicken out, I plant a kiss on his forehead. “One.” I kiss against his temple. “Two.”
“What are you doing?”
“Kissing the birthday boy. Thirty-six kisses, is it?” I kiss his entire face, particularly enjoying the softness of his beard, and stop at the corner of his mouth. “Thirty-six,” I whisper against his skin before pressing my lips to his completely.
I’m just about to slip my tongue inside when he pulls back. “Fuck, Millie, I really want to do this. But we can’t.”
Stomach sinking, I pull back too. “Why not?”
“You’ve been drinking.” His dark eyes are fathomless inky pools full of nothing but honesty and respect.
“So? You have too. If you’re worried about whiskey dick, it’s fine. I probably won’t remember in the morning anyway.”
Ezra pulls me to his body and pivots, then tosses me onto my back and pins me with his weight, locking my arms against my sides, engulfing me in his scent—those spicy notes mixed with sweat and champagne. “Honey, when I fuck you,” he growls into my ear, “I want the memory so ingrained, you’ll never get it out of your damn mind.”
I groan, cursing thelight coming through the blinds. I really miss my blackout curtains. It takes a moment to piece together why my head is pounding. I’m just coming to my senses and mentally taking note of each part of my body when something moves against my shoulder.
The sensation startles me, and that’s when I notice the handcupping my boob.
