Page 45 of Out of Control

And back to the alcohol that will numb me from all the things I want to ignore.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rossi

“Is it true, Ollie?” Sofia’s slurred words call out to me and give me pause.

I’ve watched her all night. Drink after drink. Dance after dance. Almost as if each one is another step, another way, to try and forget the words I said to her on the terrace. Almost as if she believes she can.

We both know the truth. She can’t.

What’s worse? I can’t either.

She’s struggling with shit I can’t even imagine. I’m struggling with shit I won’t talk about.

I should walk away. Cut my losses. Chalk it up to great sex—right person, wrong time. And yet when she walks toward me, when those lashes flutter and she looks up at me, I know I’m not going anywhere.

This damn woman owns me in ways I don’t understand.

“C’mon, Just Ollie. Truce Boy. Is it true, yes or no?” She punctuates each of the last three words like a kid in a sing-song voice.

I turn to face her. Her hair is mussed, her clothes askew. She looks properly drunk and indisputably adorable as she concentrates so very hard to walk in her heels.

The anger and desire that have owned me all night soften slightly as she reaches me. Her smile widens and she reaches out to grab my arm to steady herself.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she says breathlessly. “Especially because I’m mad at you. At least I want to be but you make it really hard to be.”

“Agreed,” I say cautiously as I try to gauge how intoxicated she is. I glance around. There are several people out front of the club in much the same state that she’s in. A little drunk, a lot relaxed.

“So is it true?”

“I need to know the question so I can answer it for you, Simply Sofia.”

She twists her lips and giggles. My balls draw up. Why can’t it be as simple as this—nothing more, nothing less?

“I like when you call me that. Do you like when I call you Ollie?” Her eyebrows narrow.

“I’ve only ever let one other person call me that before.”

“So is that a good thing or a bad thing? You like it? You don’t?”

“I like it,” I murmur, realizing just how much I do.

“Mm. Me too.” She smiles. “I stopped you for a reason though. I’m trying to remember what it was.” She pouts for a beat and then her eyes widen as she remembers. “Oh. Yes! The girls! We were all talking inside.”

“You were, huh?”

“Yep.” She gives a definitive nod that has her hair bobbing with it. “Do you like Peach Rings or Gummy Lifesavers better?”

She blushes and fuck if those eyes, those lips, and the flush of pink doesn’t already have me getting hard. I chuckle. “Are we talking about eating them or . . .”

“Sucking on them,” she states matter-of-factly. And the blood drains to my lap. Making a man watch what he wants for weeks on end is one thing. Hearing her talk about it, make the sucking sound with those painted lips of hers, that’s a whole other level of torture. “And the question came up over whether guys like them to be used when getting sucked off.” Oh, I’m well aware. A siren’s smile crawls across her lips. “And I figured you’d be the perfect person to answer that question for me.”

The visual. The thought. Christ.

“Yes. Or. No,” she whispers.

Fucking little tease.