The bar was quiet. A few old timers sat at the far end, enjoying beer and some talk.
Wanting to get this over with, I walked up to the bar and ordered a beer and two shots while pulling out a chair for her. She sat and arched a brow at me. Because I ordered for her?
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Alcohol?” It was hard to keep my tone steady. I wasn’t angry. But it did hurt to know she needed alcohol just to tolerate being near me.
I handed her the first shot and didn’t miss how she narrowed her eyes at me before throwing back the liquor.
Then, all my frustration evaporated at the face she made.
“That was awful,” she said, wheezing a little.
Man, why was she so cute? I nodded and handed her the second shot.
“Isn’t there something better than that?”
“There is, but that will do the trick.”
She swallowed down the shot in one gulp again then waved the bartender over for a glass of water.
While she sipped her water, I sipped my beer and concentrated on her scent. The fear slowly faded and amusement crept in.
“I think I’m ready,” she said, unsteadily.
“For what, exactly?” I said, warily turning to study her.
“To get to know you.”
My pulse leapt at her words, and I couldn’t deny where my thoughts led. Something must have shown on my face because she giggled.
“Not that. Like you asked.”
Images of tangled sheets and twined legs evaporated as I understood. She’d gotten drunk so she could get to know the furry side of me. I shook my head, trying to deny my disappointment and stood, offering her a hand.
She didn’t hesitate to place her hand into mine. The slide of her soft skin brought back the ache I’d been trying to keep at bay since she’d kneed me. Not the one in my nuts, but the one in my chest.
Thoughts of touching and holding her filled my mind as I led her back to the bike. She stood unsteadily as I mounted, and I had to help her onto the back. But once she sat, she wrapped herself around me. A soft groan escaped me, and I revved the motor to cover the sound. Did she have any idea how close I was to turning off the bike and pulling her into my lap?
Winifred would kill me. Only that one sane thought kept me from acting on my urge to touch and hold Michelle…and, maybe, the thought of Michelle sobering and kicking my ass and then leaving me forever. Yeah, I’d keep my hands off until she was ready.
I started out slowly and kept it slow all the way home, not wanting to give up the feel of her pressed against my back. Before we were halfway, she sighed and laid her head on my shoulder. I wasn’t worried about her falling off. No, nothing would happen.
Her hands drifted north from my waist, and the bike swerved a little. Damn. I slowed down further. Self-inflicted pain. That’s what the ride was. It hurt to have her touch me like this and do nothing about it.
When the driveway came into view, I considered passing it by but knew she’d sober eventually. She clutched me tighter as we turned and pressed her face into my shirt. Then, she inhaled deeply, scenting me. It almost ended me. Why did she have to be drunk? Why couldn’t she do this sober?
Thankfully, the sun had set and the lights were out in the house when I pulled into the garage. I didn’t need Jim’s smartass, and probably accurate, observations right now.
Michelle lifted her head as soon as I shut off the bike. Her fingers continued to trace patterns over my chest. Each swipe of her finger over a nipple brought me that much closer to shifting.
“What was in that little cup?” she asked with a slight lisp.
“Tequila.” Hopefully, she didn’t notice the growl vibrating the word.
“It didn’t taste good.”
Her roaming fingers left me, and she struggled to get off the bike. After the third time she brushed against me, I twisted and put my arms around her as I stood.
In less than a second, we were both standing next to the bike, facing each other. She blinked at me dazedly. The weak light from the porch painted her face in dusky shadows, making it easy to follow the movement of her tongue as she licked her soft, parted lips. I fisted my hands to keep them at my sides.