“Happy birthday, Sloane!” Tristan said brightly, earning a grumble from the small woman who couldn’t hold her strawberry daiquiris as he placed the rest of her presents inside before closing the front door shut behind him.
“I really hate him,” Sloane mumbled sleepily.
“I bet you do,” Chase said, chuckling as he rolled her into her room.
It took a few minutes, but he eventually managed to get her in bed. That was followed by pulling off her shoes that were probably ruined and her clothes that were still damp from the last birthday wish, Chase noted. After making sure that she wasn’t going to roll off the bed, he pulled the covers over her before rolling into his room to grab one of his shirts for her to sleep in.
When he came back, Chase found her laying on her side, watching him. “I like your smile.”
“Do you?” Chase asked absently, wondering how many drinks she’d had tonight.
“Mmmhmm, it makes you look hotter,” Sloane murmured, nodding solemnly.
“You think I’m hot?” he asked, chuckling because she was definitely drunk.
“Very hot,” she said with a firm nod before adding, “I also think you’re an asshole.”
Chuckling, he asked, “Do you really?”
“A hot asshole that owes me a birthday present,” Sloane said, watching him as he sat there, trying to figure out how he was going to get the little drunk in his shirt without her falling off the bed.
“I do, don’t I?” Chase murmured.
“Yes.”
“What would you like for your birthday?” he asked, deciding to give up on trying to get a shirt on her and tossed it aside, ready to call it a night when she took him by surprise.
“I want another kiss.”
“You want a kiss?” Chase asked, glancing back to find her watching him with an adorable pout.
Sighing, Sloane said, “I really do.”
“I think I can handle that,” Chase said, his lips twitching as he moved closer so that he could lean down and kiss her forehead. “Happy birthday, Pookie.”
When she grumbled, he said, “I thought you wanted a birthday kiss.”
Eyes narrowing, Sloane said, “That’s not a birthday kiss.”
“Then what kind of kiss did you want?” Chase absently asked as he reached back and pulled off his shirt and tossed it on top of the wet clothes that he was going to have to grab before they wrecked the floor.
“I want you to kiss me like you did the other night,” she said, reaching over to cup his face, drawing his attention to find her watching him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Pookie,” he said even as he found himself moving closer.
“It’s the only thing I want for my birthday,” Sloane said with an adorable pout.
“Then I guess I don’t have a choice,” Chase murmured because he’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t been thinking about kissing her again.
“I guess you don’t.”
Gently caressing her jaw, he slowly brushed his lips against hers and couldn’t help but groan. God, she tasted so fucking sweet, Chase thought as he moved his lips against hers. As he kissed her, he couldn’t help but notice just how different two women could be.
While Amy had made him work for every kiss from the first to the last, Sloane didn’t play any fucking games to wrap him around her little finger. With Sloane, he wouldn’t have to wonder where he stood with her because she would just fucking tell him what she wanted. It was definitely a quality that he could appreciate in a woman.
She moved her lips against his, tearing a groan from him that had him wishing that she wasn’t drunk. With one last brush of his lips against hers, he pulled back with a murmured, “Goodnight, Pookie.”
Chapter 22
Hope you like your birthday present, brat. Mom made me buy it, came the text message that had Sloane’s lips twitching as she placed her phone on the coffee table and found herself thinking about that incredibly sweet kiss that Chase had given her last night.
She’d never been kissed like that before and for some reason, that depressed her. She was twenty-nine years old and had nothing to show for it. She was a hermit, a sad, pathetic hermit, Sloane thought with a heartfelt sigh even as she had to admit that she actually loved her life. She loved traveling, loved meeting new people, living in new places, being able to keep things casual, but as she laid there, dealing with the aftereffects of drinking all those strawberry daiquiris that her brothers shoved