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“Oh, Travis King,” she drawls out, biting her lower lip. “You’ve seen me naked already, remember?”

Oh, I remember. It’s fucking burned in my brain.

“I mean, if you preferred to see me in sexy lingerie, all you had to do was ask.” Her eyes sparkle up at me and now I’m positive she’s not going to remember any of this in the morning.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. She’s seriously testing my self-control right now.

“I think you should get some sleep,” I say, directing her under the covers. “You’ll be feeling it in the morning.”

“Oh, Mr. Boss Man,” she mocks again, pouting her lips together.

“Viola…” I growl, pleading with her not to test me. “Get under the covers.”

“Are you going to make me? Because I wish you would.”

Fuck, I wish I had my phone with me, to record her saying that. This isn’t the Viola I’ve come to know. She’s spent the last decade hating me. I know her well, though, and she’ll hate me again once the alcohol wears off.

“What would you like, Viola? Tell me,” I challenge.

“Kiss me,” she says, her eyes looking up at me, pleading for me to do it.

I arch a brow, shocked she actually had the balls to say it. Part of me is tempted to kiss those lips and make her swallow her words, but the other part knows if I start, I may never be able to stop.

I grin down at her, tucking her in. She continues staring at me, as if she’s waiting. I lean down, letting my lips linger over hers. Her chest pumps up and down, her shallow breaths hits against my stubble.

“Princess…” I say just above a whisper, her back arching closer into me. “I don’t kiss virgins either.” My lips form into a cocky grin, knowing she’s about to scream at me.

Her blue eyes narrow and she pushes both hands against my chest. “Fuck you, Travis.”

There’s the Viola I know.

I lean off the bed and chuckle at her. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” I pull the covers up to her collarbone. “Get some sleep.”

“I bet you don’t have the balls to kiss me, Travis King. You’re all talk and no walk. Can’t say I’m really surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but—”

I cut her words off with my mouth, pressing my lips to hers and opening them with my tongue. I don’t wait for her permission; I take what I want, knowing it’s exactly what she wants.

She releases a deep, throaty moan and I catch it with my mouth, which only encourages me to continue. Her lips are warm and taste like the cranberry vodka she was drinking.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down on top of her. I feel the way she arches her hips up and meets me. The moment her lips touched mine, I was no longer in control, but I know I need to stop it.

Reluctantly, I release my lips from hers and push myself up. “Enough walk for you?” I ask, needing to reestablish the boundaries.

Her face goes pale and before I can ask her what’s wrong, she pulls the covers off and stumbles to the bathroom. A moment later, I hear her emptying her stomach.

“Viola!” I rush to her, finding her kneeling over the toilet, groaning. “Jesus.” I grab her hair in my fist and pull it back. I wait until she finishes and sits back, looking defeated.

“I’m going to try and not take that personally,” I say with a chuckle.

She narrows her eyes and glares up at me. “Hilarious, asshole.”

I stand up and grab the towel off the counter for her.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“That’s what they all say.”

She shoots me another look.

“C’mon.” I hold my hand out. “Back to bed.”

She stares at me a moment before giving in and taking my hand. My eyes roam down her body and she notices.

“Really? You’re going to ogle me after I just vomited in front of you?” Her stare is harsh; the Voila I know is coming back to surface.

I brush my free hand over my chin and flash a sly smirk. “Actually, I was contemplating on telling you that you had a little…something on your chest, but never mind, I’ll just let you sleep in vomit.”

She releases my hand and turns to look in the mirror above the sink. She grabs the towel and wipes it off, keeping her eyes locked on mine through the mirror.

“You should get some sleep,” I say. “And drink some water before you get dehydrated.”

She turns on the faucet and splashes some water on her face before glaring at me in the mirror. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

I want to say something about how she nearly left with some random guy at the bar and how she was barely conscious on the way home, but I bite my tongue and stare at her in rage before walking back out of the bathroom and heading back to my sheetless bed.