Page 46 of Out of Control

The worst part? She’s not trying to be. She’s playful because she’s drunk. She’s carefree because the alcohol has taken away the burdens she wears like a suit of armor. Doesn’t that make her being like this even sexier?

“I think you should be careful asking questions like that of guys like me.”

“And who are guys like you? Tough guys who’re all talk?” she asks.

Guys worth slumming with. I wince. No matter how much I know she didn’t mean it . . . I still can’t shake hearing her say it.

“Guys who might take advantage of the situation.”

She wobbles before stepping into me, poking me in the chest, and whispering, “You forget, Rossi. I already had you too.”

“That’s not something I’ll ever forget,” I murmur and resist the urge to reach out and cup the side of her face. I’m not one who touches, who needs to touch, and yet when it comes to Sofia, that’s all I want to do. It’s maddening. “You should probably go home.”

She pouts and studies me. “The hard to get thing gets old, Ollie. Two steps forward, one step back.”

I bark out a laugh. “Yes. Of course. How dare I play hard to get with you?”

As if I couldn’t like her any more than I already do.

“Make no mistake, Sofia. I’m not playing hard to get with you. I’m letting you make every decision. Every step of the way.”

“Is that why you haven’t called?”

Her words and the brutal honesty in them startle me. “Called?”

“For a stalker, you sure didn’t try very hard.”

I step forward and lower my voice. “It’s a fine line between respecting your wishes like you deserve and telling you you’re mine and only mine like I want.”

“Respecting my wishes? Ha.” She blows raspberries at that.

“Yes. Respecting your wishes, Sofia. Do you think it would go over well if I go around the paddock asking for your number? If I ask Cruz for it?” I narrow my eyebrows and chuckle. “For a woman who wanted one night, nothing more, nothing less, that doesn’t sound like I’d be respecting your wishes.”

“But you . . . you said you want more. Again. Another time.”

“I did. I do. But fucking you over to get that isn’t respecting you either and, from what I gather, that seems to be what many men in your life do to you—disrespect and disregard you—for one reason or another. I won’t be one of them.”

“But you said you wanted me,” she repeats.

“And you said you weren’t sure what you wanted. Last I checked, Bellissima, that’s on you, not on me. I’m a fucking guy. You can’t say one thing to me and mean another and expect me to interpret it. I . . .” I take a step back and run a hand through my hair. I’m frustrated and about two seconds from hauling her against me and kissing her senseless to stop the questions and doe eyes. She’s way too innocent for the thoughts about what I want to do to her that keep running through my head.

“Sofia,” a voice shouts down the sidewalk, followed by a waning click of heels. I look up and meet the eyes of Cruz’s girlfriend, fiancée, whatever the fuck they are. She eyes me warily but then gives me the slightest of nods and a ghost of a smile. “Everything good?”

Sofia makes a dramatic show of giving a thumbs up.

“Everything’s fine,” I say to her.

“Are you . . .” Maddix eyes Sofia and then me, clearly assessing the situation.

“She’ll get home safely. Yes. I’ll make sure of it,” I say.

She contemplates that for a few seconds before she nods and takes a step back. “I’ll tell your brother you got a ride home with a friend.”

“Perfect,” Sofia says before turning to face me—a little too fast by the way she catches herself from stumbling—then raises her eyebrows. “Where were we? Lectureville?”

“We shouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” She’s drunk and I’m trying to reason with her when there’s no such possibility. She won’t remember shit. “Forget it.” I wave a hand her way.

“Fine.” A nod.