He tilts my head to the side, turning my cheek towards the light.
I should push him away.
His thumb strokes my jaw.
I don’t want to push him away.
He chuckles and it’s a drunkenly delightful sound. “I forget how talented you are. Managed to spill my drink on the both of us.” His thumb swipes across my cheek, wiping away the wine I had forgotten splashed onto my face.
“Well maybe if you’d kept your eyes on the dance floor and your nose out of your glass, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” I say coolly.
“Oh, darling, my eyes were on the dance floor,” he says casually. “They were on you dancing with my brother.” Then he huffs out a laugh, craning his neck to shake his head at the canopy of leaves above us. “Why do you think I’ve been drinking?”
My heart is pounding against my ribcage, against the tight confines of this dress, threatening to burst and tear Adena’s careful stitching. He’s looking at me again, shrugging sloppily. “Besides, this,” he looks down at his stained shirt, “was most definitely the doing of your clumsy footwork.”
I fix him with a glare, willing myself not to smile. “Oh, is that right?”
“Shh.”
His fingers have found their way back under my chin, my jaw, cupping my face. Gray eyes drop to my mouth, gaze heavy. And then he’s dragging his thumb along the length of my bottom lip.
Wine.
I can taste it still coating the thumb he’s swiping across my mouth. I’m stunned, stone-still as his eyes track where his finger traces, ever so slowly, back and forth.
I should push him away.
But I don’t.
Instead, I watch him watch me. Watch his eyes roam over my face. Watch his chest heave with shaky breaths. Watch a muscle tick in his cheek. Watch a smile twitch his lips.
His next words are a murmur, as if he’s muttering his innermost thoughts while his thumb continues to wander over my lip. “Will you forever be the prize I am aimlessly trying to win?”
I inhale sharply, staring him down as I say, “Is that all I am to you? A trophy?”
A small smile twitches his lips as he shakes his head at me. “Oh, darling, a trophy implies that I won it, earned it, deserve it.” He leans in further, a certain reverence reflecting in his gaze. “But if I get to have you, it will be because you let me.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling far too dry.
It’s just the ramblings of a drunk man, that’s all.
His thumb is tracing my mouth and I allow myself one more moment to memorize the feeling.
And then I push him away.
One of my palms finds his chest, forcing some space between us while the other catches his wrist. I pull his fingers away from my mouth, my lips still tingling from his touch. I feel dizzy, like I could get drunk off his touch alone.
Dangerous.
“You’re not sober.” Tilting my head, I give him a smile. “So, you’re not allowed to touch me.”
He copies me, cocking his head to the side as he looks down at where I’m holding his wrist. “But you’re touching me.”
“Yes, well, I’m sober.”
A smile plays at his lips. “So, you’re saying I’m allowed to touch you when I’m sober?” His tone sounds more like a challenge than a question.
I consider it. Then I laugh. “I’m only saying yes because I doubt you’ll remember much of this conversation in the morning.”
His gaze flicks between my mouth and eyes, a drunken smirk twisting his lips. “Oh, darling, I doubt I could forget this.”
I shake my head at him, not bothering to suppress my smile before remembering that I’m still holding his wrist. I lower it slowly, letting it drop to his side as I distract myself by assessing the stain again.
I sigh, exasperated. “Obviously, that stain is not going to come out like this. You’ll need to take off your shirt and soak it.”
His grin is wicked. “You’re trying to get me naked? Again?” He says this far too loud and I’m sure far too many people hear it. I pin him against the tree, clamping a hand over his mouth so no more nonsense can come spewing out of it.
I’m trying not to laugh and failing miserably. I snort and clamp a hand over my mouth, shaking with less than silent laughter at my current situation. At that, I feel Kai’s lips smiling against my palm and tug my hand back before I can change my mind.
“Don’t stop,” he murmurs.
I nearly choke on my laugh. “Stop what?”
“That. Laughing.”
I still at his words, unable to stop myself from falling silent.
He gives me a look, frowning slightly. “You never listen to me, do you?”
And with that, I’m being pulled towards the carpeted dance floor.
“What are you—？” I sputter as he stops abruptly at the edge of the dancing couples and spins around. Words fail me when he lifts the back of my hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. Then his mouth finds the pad of my thumb, lips lightly pressing there before they vanish so quickly I wonder if I’ve imagined it.
I’m stunned into silence.
Kai seems pleased by this.
Still holding my hand and grinning widely, he sweeps into a surprisingly steady bow as he says, “May I have this dance?”
I don’t get the chance to answer before he tugs on my arm, pulling me into him and onto the dance floor. I’m wrapped in his arms, pressed tightly against him. His mouth is suddenly at my ear, murmuring, “I wasn’t really asking.”
I pull back so I can look into his face, scoffing. “I thought you said you were a gentleman?”
“Only when I want to be.”
My eyes wander to his stained shirt, visible to everyone around us. “Kai, your shirt. Maybe you should change—”
“Darling,” he cuts me off with a humored huff, “I’m used to being covered in other red, sticky liquids far worse than wine.”
True.
I try to push the gory thought away and let him sweep me across the rugs. The sun has set, casting the guests beside us in shadows and flickering lamplight. It’s so familiar—the feel of each other, the footwork, the flirting. Familiar. But what amazes me the most is how steady and sure Kai is on his feet. How articulate he manages to be even while intoxicated. I suppose some masks never seem to slip.
And then it finally happens. Kai stumbles, if only for a moment. A slight trip of his feet.
“Look who has the clumsy footwork now?” I smirk, not realizing how badly I’ve wanted to see him struggle during a dance. During anything.
He gives me a dull look. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you’re drunk.”
“You said you were only a little drunk, remember?”
“Fine. Then you can cut me a little slack.” He’s looking me over, shaking his head at what he sees. “Besides, your dress is very distracting. I like it.”
I huff out a laugh. “That is a terrible excuse.”
“That’s because I was giving you a compliment, not an excuse.”
“Well then that was a terrible compliment.”
I see the challenge flash in his eyes before I hear it in his voice. “Then why don’t you give me an example of a good compliment, Gray.”