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The jerk actually winked.
A rush of embarrassment flooded, and I sent him a glower. “Don’t you dare start giving me crap, Trevan Niles. I may not have been at my best last night, but the nice, good, gentlemanly thing to do would be not to rub it in.”
Air puffed from his nose, and he hovered at the side of my bed.
Uncertainty swirled around him. Hesitation twitching through his bulky muscles as he warred with what to say.
Then he reached out and pushed back a tangled lock of my hair, fingers soft as he tucked it behind my ear. “Maybe that’s exactly what you were last night, Elena. At your best. At your rawest. I don’t want to be the one to stifle that.”
Rough fingertips dragged across my cheek as he drew his hand away.
My heart thudded an erratic, desperate beat. “Then don’t.”
I wondered if he took it that I was asking him to step back and leave me alone. Allow me to have the experiences I was aching for. Or if he really knew that who I was aching to experience them with was him.
Because he remained right there. Espresso eyes darkened and deep. Intensity rippled off him and slammed into me.
It was more than mere warmth, though.
It was hinged, bridled heat.
Then he seemed to shake off whatever was stewing in his brain and plopped casually onto the mattress next to me. It dipped beneath his weight. “Drink up.”
“Bossy.”
“Miracle deliverer,” he corrected.
I laughed, then moaned. “Shut up, Heathen. Don’t make me laugh. I’m dying, remember?”
“You’re dramatic, is what you are.”
“I prefer expressive.”
His laugh was tender. “That you are, Little Apple. Expressive. Vivid. A bright, shining light.”
Our gazes meshed for an elongated beat. Awareness I was almost certain held something more.
Tearing myself away, I lifted the glass.
My nose curled as I studied the fizzy, bubbly concoction with sediment on the bottom.
“Bottom’s up,” he instructed.
“You want me to slam this?” A frown dented deep into my brow.
“Don’t act like you didn’t show off your mad skills at ‘slamming’ last night.”
At the thought of it, another wave of nausea rolled. I curbed it, squeezed my eyes closed, and tossed the glass back.
I chugged until it was empty.
“Guh.” I made a strangled sound and stuck out my tongue. “It tastes like I just swallowed mashed up aspirin.”
“Basically.”
“Are you trying to torture me?”
“Give it twenty minutes and you’ll want to kiss me.”
