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“You told me to pretend you didn’t exist. Let me do that,” I say.
A small smile plays on her lips. “You’re drunk.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Why are you here with Louis?”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Oh, I know you saw the headlines. We’re officially dating now.”
I take a step closer, and her back hits the wall. Leaning in, I whisper in her ear, “Why are you determined to keep lying about that?”
She swallows hard, grabbing my shirt and pulling me closer.
My stubble grazes her neck, making her breath hitch. A smile creeps onto my face as I trace her jaw with my lips, bringing myself close to her mouth. We’re less than an inch apart as her eyes flutter closed. I brush my lips across hers, not pressing them together, even as she inches forward.
“Does your boyfriend know about me?” I whisper.
“Does your girlfriend know about me?” she shoots back.
“I’m not with anyone. Now it’s your turn to confess,” I mutter.
Seconds feel like minutes as I gently rub my nose against hers.Our hot breaths mingle, and our lips are just a hummingbird wing’s flutter away. I want to thread my fingers through her hair and capture her ruby-red lips, but I force myself to pull away, intoxicated by our closeness.
“You make me so mad and …” she says in a low growl, unable to finish her thought.
“Die mad, Ice Queen,” I reply, knowing I have Billie Calloway wrapped around my little finger.
The urge to taste her lips again nearly overwhelms me, and we can’t lose control. I’m so damn tempted, but am I under her spell, or is it the bottomless bourbon shots I’ve taken?
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she says.
Her wall briefly falls, and for a moment, I’m completely star-crossed, almost picturing an entirely different life with her. We’d argue until we were ninety.
A small smile tugs at my lips as she gazes up at me, flustered, as if she’s imagining the same thing. Her breathing is uneven.
“You should get back to your prince,” I lean in and say close to her ear, running my fingers through her hair and giving it a slight tug.
Her fingers grip my shirt tightly. I slide my phone from my pocket, lift it, and snap a photo with the flash.
“You bastard,” she growls, and I pull her closer.
“SayIce Queen,” I tell her, leaning into her with a grin. Then I turn to her with a chuckle. “Don’t fuck with me, Billie. I’m playing to win.”
“Win what?” she asks. “You have zero skin in this game.”
“You’re wrong about that. Micro versus macro.” I turn back to her, opening my camera to snap another shot.
She looks gorgeous, even happy, as she leans confidently against the wall, staring at me with her fuck-me eyes.
“Delete those,” she warns. “If not, I’ll make you regret it.”
“You’re not in control,” I say, flicking through the photos.
I relish the devious little smirk that plays on her lips, almost likeshe’s daring me to post. There’s another where her hair covers her face.
Billie moves toward me, standing right in front of me. “I suppose you’re the epitome of control then?”
Her lips are so fucking close. They brush against mine, and I hold my composure, though inside, I’m fucking falling apart.
She pulls away, surprised. “Wow. You’re immune.”