I’m suddenly concerned.
Wine is dripping from the edges of his suit, and he can’t seem to stop laughing long enough to notice, or even care, that my clumsiness has ruined his clothes. I clear my throat, eying the guests eying us as I say, “Kai,” another deep rumble of laughter at the sound of his name, “why don’t we go get you cleaned up?”
I grab his hand before he has a chance to argue or laugh some more, and lead us to the bordering trees, aware of the eyes tracking our every move. I snatch a handkerchief from one of the long tables before shoving us under the drooping branches of a shadowy willow tree, shielding us from the gossiping guests.
Kai leans against the rough trunk, grinning wickedly at me. I give him a quick once over, assessing the damage I did to his clothes along with his strange behavior.
He leans close, too close, studying me thoroughly. “You know,” he breathes the words in a way that sends a shiver down my spine, “you didn’t have to spill my drink all over me to get me alone. You could have just asked me to dance.”
I meet his gaze before it begins to trail lazily down my body. I hold my breath, practically feeling the path his eyes are burning. Then, slowly, so insufferably, sensually, scandalously slow, his gaze makes its way back to mine. “Better yet, you would have made me come to you in that dress, sooner or later.”
I swallow. My eyes scan over him, taking in the rumpled clothes, the rumbling laughter, the flirty rambling—though I suppose that’s nothing new.
“You’re drunk.” I sigh out the words, shaking my head at him.
He’s smirking at me again, though it’s wilder than the ones I’ve grown so used to. “Maybe a little.”
I roll my eyes, wading up the cloth I grabbed and beginning to undo the button of his suit coat to try and sop up the shirt beneath as best I can. “Are you undressing me, Gray?” His face is close to mine again, breath tickling my cheek. “I mean, I can’t say I didn’t think this day would come.” He adds with an amused whisper, “Couldn’t resist me, darling?”
I look up at him then, flashing a smile of my own with a confidence I don’t currently feel. “Oh please,” I snort, “the only thing I’m resisting when I’m around you is the urge to put a dagger to your throat.”
His eyes are locked on mine. “I love when you threaten to kill me, do you know that?”
“Oh? And why is that?”
The corner of his mouth twitches up. “Because every time you don’t, it only proves that you don’t want to.”
And then he flicks the tip of my nose with a satisfied smile.
I bat his hand away with a huff, flustered and frustrated and hating that he’s the reason for my frazzled state. I fix my attention on his stained shirt, the fabric now sticking to the muscled body beneath.
Plagues, well that isn’t helping.
I begin dabbing at the red splotch, forcing myself to focus on the task rather than the boy before me. I try to forget that it’s him I’m helping all while simultaneously trying to remember why I’m helping him in the first place.
Then fingers catch my chin, and my breath catches in turn.
Kai tilts my head up to meet his gaze, fingers dancing along my jaw. He’s looking at me like one would a painting—drinking in every detail, delighting in its originality, deeming it a work of art.
He tilts my head to the side, turning my cheek towards the light.
I should push him away.
His thumb strokes my jaw.
I don’t want to push him away.
He chuckles and it’s a drunkenly delightful sound. “I forget how talented you are. Managed to spill my drink on the both of us.” His thumb swipes across my cheek, wiping away the wine I had forgotten splashed onto my face.
“Well maybe if you’d kept your eyes on the dance floor and your nose out of your glass, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” I say coolly.
“Oh, darling, my eyes were on the dance floor,” he says casually. “They were on you dancing with my brother.” Then he huffs out a laugh, craning his neck to shake his head at the canopy of leaves above us. “Why do you think I’ve been drinking?”
My heart is pounding against my ribcage, against the tight confines of this dress, threatening to burst and tear Adena’s careful stitching. He’s looking at me again, shrugging sloppily. “Besides, this,” he looks down at his stained shirt, “was most definitely the doing of your clumsy footwork.”
I fix him with a glare, willing myself not to smile. “Oh, is that right?”
“Shh.”
His fingers have found their way back under my chin, my jaw, cupping my face. Gray eyes drop to my mouth, gaze heavy. And then he’s dragging his thumb along the length of my bottom lip.
Wine.
I can taste it still coating the thumb he’s swiping across my mouth. I’m stunned, stone-still as his eyes track where his finger traces, ever so slowly, back and forth.
I should push him away.
But I don’t.
Instead, I watch him watch me. Watch his eyes roam over my face. Watch his chest heave with shaky breaths. Watch a muscle tick in his cheek. Watch a smile twitch his lips.
His next words are a murmur, as if he’s muttering his innermost thoughts while his thumb continues to wander over my lip. “Will you forever be the prize I am aimlessly trying to win?”
I inhale sharply, staring him down as I say, “Is that all I am to you? A trophy?”
A small smile twitches his lips as he shakes his head at me. “Oh, darling, a trophy implies that I won it, earned it, deserve it.” He leans in further, a certain reverence reflecting in his gaze. “But if I get to have you, it will be because you let me.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling far too dry.
It’s just the ramblings of a drunk man, that’s all.
His thumb is tracing my mouth and I allow myself one more moment to memorize the feeling.
And then I push him away.
One of my palms finds his chest, forcing some space between us while the other catches his wrist. I pull his fingers away from my mouth, my lips still tingling from his touch. I feel dizzy, like I could get drunk off his touch alone.
Dangerous.
“You’re not sober.” Tilting my head, I give him a smile. “So, you’re not allowed to touch me.”
He copies me, cocking his head to the side as he looks down at where I’m holding his wrist. “But you’re touching me.”
“Yes, well, I’m sober.”
A smile plays at his lips. “So, you’re saying I’m allowed to touch you when I’m sober?” His tone sounds more like a challenge than a question.
I consider it. Then I laugh. “I’m only saying yes because I doubt you’ll remember much of this conversation in the morning.”
His gaze flicks between my mouth and eyes, a drunken smirk twisting his lips. “Oh, darling, I doubt I could forget this.”
I shake my head at him, not bothering to suppress my smile before remembering that I’m still holding his wrist. I lower it slowly, letting it drop to his side as I distract myself by assessing the stain again.