Redemptive (Combative, #2)(25)

After what felt like an eternity, he heaved out a sigh and straightened up. “You coming?” he murmured, facing me.

I jumped in my spot, then composed myself enough to put one foot in front of the other.

“I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t think you should. You know… just until we find out what caused last night.”

“Okay.”

He reached for the bottle, and that’s when I saw it; the blood on his knuckles. Without thinking, I lifted his hand with both of mine so I could inspect it. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, pulling out of my hold.

“Was it about me?”

“No, Bailey. It was about me.”

And even though I knew he was lying, Tiny’s words from earlier came to mind. Instead of pushing him like I wanted, I changed the subject. “I’m sure I can have a small sip,” I said, jerking my head toward the whiskey. “Just a taste.”

He arched a single eyebrow as if surprised by my words. Then he shrugged. “Just a taste. Can’t hurt, right?”

I nodded and sat up on the counter. As he reached up to grab the glasses, the bottom of his shirt lifted, exposing the bottom of his naturally tanned stomach. There was something about the way his boxers—ones I’m sure I’ve worn at some point—peeked out over his jeans, hiding the beginning of that V that led to…

“Bailey?”

My eyes darted to his. “Huh?” Then I dropped my gaze to hide my blush. I knew he’d caught me staring, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“You want whiskey or something weaker?” he asked, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. At least I was doing what Tiny had asked.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I said, ignoring the pounding of my heart while I tried to muster the courage to stay put, to not run into my room and shut the door.

He used his uninjured hand to pour us each a glass. “Just taste it,” he said, handing it to me.

There was barely anything in mine. I eyed it curiously before lifting it to my nose to smell it. It smelled fine.

“Wait.” He covered my hand. “Have you had alcohol before?”

I shook my head.

“Just go easy.”

“Okay,” I agreed, but I didn’t really know what he meant by it. I brought the glass to my lips, confused by the amount of liquid and by his words, and then I tipped the glass and drank it all. Then I spluttered and coughed, my chest, eyes and nose burning.

“I said go easy!” he said, but he was laughing.

I was still coughing, pounding at my chest. “It burns,” I squeaked.

He laughed harder and stood in front of me. His strong hand on my shoulder as he bent at his knees, trying to look at me.

I wiped my eyes and held my stomach, feeling the liquid burning inside there. “Is that stuff like… expired?” I looked up at him, waiting for a response.

With his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, he just shook his head, his shoulders heaving with each laugh trying to escape.

I slapped his shoulder, annoyed at his response to the fire burning inside me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to compose himself. “But I did tell you to go easy. That’s not how you drink whiskey for the first time.”

“How do you drink it then?”

“You appreciate it,” he said, lifting the glass. His eyes stayed on mine as he tipped the drink slowly into his mouth, his tongue darting out afterward, licking the taste off his lips.

I found myself copying his movements; my eyes fixed on his mouth. A shiver ran up my spine, and a stirring occurred in the pit of my stomach. My chest heaved with every breath, and his did the same. We couldn’t stop looking at each other… until his phone rang. And he cursed under his breath, before pulling it out of his pocket and answering it. “Yeah?” he said, his eyes still on mine. “Okay. We can deal with it tomorrow.” And then he hung up.

I jumped off the counter. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s still light out.”

“Oh. I’ll just have a nap,” I told him, needing some space to think, and to breathe. What the hell was happening?

“Sounds good,” he said, walking past me toward the bedrooms. He didn’t stop at his door, though. Instead, he went to my room. He shifted the covers on the bed and sat on the edge as he placed the content of his pockets on the nightstand. I stood in the doorway, watching, not knowing what to do. “You coming?”

“Um…”

“We’re just sleepin’, right?”

I nodded slowly and made my way over to him. He lay down, scooting until his back was against the wall, making room for me. I hesitated, and he noticed because he said, “I’m tired, Bailey. I didn’t sleep at all last night. Either you get in bed, and I sit on the chair awake and watch you sleeping, or you can do us both a favor, and we can both get some rest.”

Without another word, I climbed under the covers, facing away from him. The bed shifted and his arm moved under my pillow, and then his other arm was around my waist, and his hand flattened on my stomach, drawing me closer to him. I felt his breath on my neck as both his arms curled around me, pressing my back against his chest. And then he kissed my shoulder, softly, just once, but it was enough to make me shut my eyes and relive the feeling over and over. “Sleep well, bella.”