Broken Course (Wrecked and Ruined #3)(21)

"You want something to drink?" I ask as soon as we walk in.

"Nah, I’m good," she replies, eyeing me as I walk to the fridge and retrieve a beer for myself. "You’ve never asked me why I don’t drink. Why is that?" she asks curiously.

"I figure you’ll tell me when you want to," I say quickly.

But I know exactly why she doesn’t drink. There’s a lot I know about Sarah. However, those aren’t the parts I want to talk about tonight.

"What if I were a recovering alcoholic?" She walks over to the kitchen to stand directly in front of me. "You’ve never asked about drinking in front of me either."

I can tell by the twitch of her lips that she is just giving me a hard time, but the gleam in her eye exposes her insecurities. Insecurities I plan to put to rest.

"You agreed to meet me at a bar on our first date," I say simply while tipping the beer to my lips. "I’m assuming that, if you were a recovering alcoholic, you wouldn’t have chosen a sports bar tonight either."

"Oh, yeah. Probably not." She gives me a weak smile.

I place the beer down on the counter and grab her hips, sliding my hands down to splay across her ass for the very first time. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t back away. Instead, she casually rests her hands on my chest.

"Just so you know. If you were a recovering alcoholic, it wouldn’t bother me in the least." Leaning forward, I place a soft kiss to her lips. Then I slide my hands up her sides and guide each of her arms around my neck. "Because the fact that you no longer drink would mean that you have overcome it. It would mean that you struggled, just like we all do, and that you didn’t succumb. You would’ve had to fight to get where you are today, and that kind of strength should not ever be interpreted as a weakness. That kind of strength is a rare thing of beauty."

"Jesus," she whispers as tears sparkle in her eyes.

I watch for a moment as something passes over her. Her shoulders relax and she lets out a sound that can only be described as a whimper of relief. I rub her back as she takes a second to collect herself. Finally, she laughs, dropping her forehead to my chest.

"How the hell did you just make alcoholism sexy?"

"It’s a gift." I smile, using a finger under her chin to lift her eyes back to mine. "Now, Sarah, are you a recovering alcoholic?" I ask even though I know the answer.

"No," she breathes.

"Do you mind if I drink in front of you?"

"No." She leans forward, brushing her lips across mine. "But I do mind that you haven’t properly kissed me yet." As she drags her hands down my chest, reaching them around to grab my ass, I can’t help but smile at her boldness.

"Mmm, we should really take care of that." I cup her face between my hands. My thumbs stroke her flawless skin as her cheeks begin to flush.

"I agree." She sways even closer, pressing her chest against mine.

Very slowly, I move toward her mouth, pausing at the last second to say, "In my bed." I release her and step back against the counter. I casually pick up my beer and take another sip.

"That was mean," she says with a smile.

"I know, but I’m just not sorry." I smirk, using my beer bottle to point toward the hallway. "Lead the way. You remember where my bed is, right?"

"You have lost your damn mind if you think I’m sprinting down the hall and jumping into your bed like some desperate woman just because you told me to." She cocks her head with false attitude. "Don’t get me wrong, Leo. You’re a good-looking guy and all, but that’s not my style." She crosses her arms over her chest, forcing her already large breasts together to the point where they almost pop out of her dress.

"Ah, now you’re playing dirty," I groan, staring at her cleavage and praying to God that the thin straps suddenly break. When I drag my gaze back to hers, I find her eyes dancing with laughter. "I see what you’re doing here." I release the buttons at my wrists. Then, with one swift movement, I tug my shirt and undershirt over my head.

She bites her lip as I flex my abs just for good measure, and I can tell the minute she sees the tattoo on my side. It’s the same look of heat every woman gets until they realize what it says:

Liv

Love

Lie

I’m not sure if it’s the name Liv or the word ‘lie’ that makes women pause, but if history is any indicator, she’ll ask about the part that bothers her in three, two, one…

"Nice tattoo."

"Thanks."

She swallows hard, and I once again tip the beer bottle to my lips, preparing my lies for the questions that are sure to follow. But they never come. Instead, she slides the straps of her dress down her arms. My mouth goes dry as she pauses to make sure I am watching. The twinkle of mischief in her eyes is unmistakable.

"See, now I feel like you’re challenging me. I’ve never been able to turn down a challenge." She shrugs then pushes the thin cotton dress down her chest. It falls down over her curved hips and pools on the floor at her feet.

My mouth would have gaped open at her confidence, but that would have required at the very least an involuntary reaction. Currently, every single brain cell I possess is ensnared by the unbelievably sexy woman standing in front of me wearing only a strapless black bra, lace panties, and black heels.