Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“You turned your head at the last minute, you ratbastard.”
“Are you sure? You were quite merry that day. Maybe your memory is impaired,” he said breezily, filling the bowls. “I don’t remember turning my head.”
“I should have just walked home,” I muttered, reaching for my glass and taking a big gulp of the wine.
“Careful,” he said, putting a bowl in front of me. “Drink it too quickly, and who knows where your lips will accidentally land.”
“I’m extremely grateful for your hospitality tonight, but don’t think I won’t beat you with the fire poker, Thomas.”
“Thank God you used my name. If you were going to be cocky and call me Your Grace, I might have gotten a bit turned on.”
“Note to self: stoke the fire before beating him,” I muttered, reaching for a piece of bread so I could rip it into two.
“Kinky,” Thomas said, sipping his wine. He peered at me over the rim of the glass, and the playful sparkle in his eyes did all kinds of things to me.
Tummy-flipping, heart-pounding, vagina-clenching things.
None-of-my-bloody-business kind of things.
“Just shut up and eat,” I grumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the stool.
There was something about sitting here with him in his kitchen, eating hot soup and drinking cold wine while we tossed barbs back and forth.
I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that ‘something’ quite was, but it was far more comfortable than I wanted it to be. Especially since my heart was quite unsettled by this closeness between us.
And just like the snowstorm, there was no end in sight to these growing feelings of mine.
The sooner this night was over, the better.
CHAPTER TWENTY – SYLVIE
I pressed my fingertips to my face and stared at the scene in front of me through my splayed fingers with nothing but pure disbelief and rampant infuriation.
I was being humiliated.
“You must be cheating. That’s the only way you can win Connect-4 ten times in a row.” I dropped my hands to the coffee table and glared at Thomas. “I don’t know how, but you’re cheating.”
“How can I possibly cheat at this game?” He laughed, leaning back against the sofa. “The pieces are right in front of you.”
“I don’t know, but you’re cheating somehow, you bastard.”
“Sylvie, just face it. You’re just really, really shit at this game.”
“How can anyone be bad at Connect-4?”
“I don’t know, but you are.”
I huffed and grabbed my glass. “I bet you always win at Rock, Paper, Scissors, too, don’t you?”
“I have been known to come out on top more often than not.” Thomas’ lips curved into a little smile. “Maybe we should call it quits on this one for tonight.”
“But I want to beat you.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight.”
I huffed and set my empty glass on the coffee table. “Then at least let me drown my sorrows in your wine.”
He raised his eyebrows and pressed his wine glass against his lips. “Aren’t you the one who said drinking around me is a bad idea?”
“Yes, but I need to drink because of you, so the situation is completely different now.”
“Has it suddenly become a good idea?”
“If I ever think anything to do with you is a good idea, that’s when you need to make me stop drinking.”
“So, the key is to get you drunk enough that you enjoy my company.”
“I highly doubt that’ll ever happen.”
“It sounds like it’s a possibility,” he countered, getting to his feet and setting his glass next to mine. “And given that you kissed me while you weren’t that drunk, I’m intrigued to find out what you’d try to do if you were.”
“I did not kiss you deliberately!” I called after him.
God knows why I did.
I knew he was only saying it to wind me up, but reacting to him was like a reflex. Like when a doctor smacks their little hammer tool against your knee and your leg goes ‘boing.’
Really, at this point, I should have been able to control myself, but he just brought something out of me.
Crazy.
It was my crazy that he brought out.
Ugh.
If tangled Christmas lights were a person, they’d be me.
Or my feelings, rather.
This man was a nuisance.
“Pick one.” Thomas set down a bottle of wine, a bottle of gin, and a fancy bottle of whiskey, turning each one until I could see the name on the label.
“What is this?” I asked, scanning each one.
“Me trying to get you drunk enough to enjoy my company.”
“Thomas, this is an emergency sleepover, not Fresher’s Week. Calm down.”
“Yes, but the more you’re drinking, the more you’re warming up to me. The Sylvie of two weeks ago would never be in my house playing Connect-4 with me.”
“That’s appreciation for not leaving me stranded in the snow. Don’t think too much into it. You’ll give yourself a headache.”
“Sylvie, I’ve had a headache ever since I ran into you at the café.” He dropped back down onto the floor in front of the bottles and moved the Connect-4 board to the side.