Are you a romantic at heart?
Fancy a little thrill and sometimes suspense with your romance?
Well, come on into my world.... I bet you'll like what you see.
When she came back, she had the first-aid box under one armpit, a bottle of vodka in one hand and two glasses in the other hand.
His eyebrow raised, Michael pointed to the vodka. "What's that for?"
"To use as a disinfectant," she answered innocently as she set it and the glasses on the coffee-table. A second later, she erased that innocence by laughing. "What do you think it's for? I'm going to get juiced-up of course."
Seeing her laughing after what she'd just been through eased a few knots in the rope of tension that had tied itself in his stomach. He couldn't help smiling back as he said, "I don't think you should be drinking right now."
"You're wrong about that. This is the right time for me to be drinking." She handed him the first-aid box. "I was just attacked in my own home by my ex sugar-daddy. If that's not a great reason to get drunk then I don't know what is."
As it turned out, he was right to be worried about her drinking. He shouldn't have let her open that bottle of Vodka. And he certainly shouldn't have joined her because they were both lightweights. Someway, somehow, they ended up seated on the carpeted floor. His arms were around her upper back and she had her head on his shoulder as they drank.
A part of Max knew that he wasn't supposed to be in this position with Tegan. However, he was too tipsy to give a damn. His hooded eyes settled on her face, lingered on her lips. When she brought the drink to her mouth, only one thought echoed in his brain. He wanted to taste her lips. No... he needed to taste her lips.
He set his glass on the coffee-table then plucked her glass from her hands.
