22. Chapter 19
Mari
W e reached the gym in what somehow felt like both hours and minutes.
We had taken many, many accidental reroutes.
Chance, I learned, could hold his whiskey much better than I could.
He was still walking perfectly, catching me swiftly whenever I stumbled.
Only the slight slur in his voice gave him away.
“What now, Sunny?”
I grinned and held up a finger for him to wait while I whisked over to the radio. The switch flickered when I pushed it into full blast. Turning back towards him, I found his eyes quickly snapping up to mine.
Sneaky, Chance. Very sneaky.
“Come on.” I waved a hand towards him, gesturing him forward.
His brows ticked up in silent question.
“Dance with me, Chance.”
His blue eyes darkened, and he stiffened.
After a moment, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “You’ve never called me that before.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, until the song changed. “Tennessee Whiskey” by Chris Stapleton filled the room.
“I love this song.” The alcohol coursing through my veins fused with the music. I hadn’t even felt myself slip into a sway until strong arms swept me up.
We fell easily into a thankfully simple slow dance, my left hand curling and brushing over his scarred knuckles and calloused fingers.
“Such a pretty dancer, Sunny baby,” he murmured.
His face was so close to mine, the dim light shining off his lips.
“I could say the same thing about you, Twinkle Toes ,” I teased.
He bowed his head in laughter and the warmth of his breath caught on my lips.
“Wanna know a secret?”
“Mmm.” I nodded my head.
That glorious fusion of music and whiskey found a third friend—those forget-me-not blue eyes staring down at me.
“I took dance lessons when I was first starting out in boxing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, helped me with my footwork.”
I smiled—beamed, I’m sure. “Why does that not surprise me?”
His gaze slowly snaked its way up my face, and it dawned on me that he’d been staring at my mouth.
“You’re far too smart to be surprised by things as trivial as that,” he replied.
Feeling an uncomfortable weight from the compliment he’d just paid me, my eyes fell to our hands.
“Don’t do that.” His hand left my waist and tenderly pulled my chin up, my face much closer than a moment ago.
“Don’t do what?” I whispered as his tongue swiftly coated his lips slick, the bottom falling between his teeth for a split second.
“Don’t turn away from a compliment, Sunny. You of all people deserve them.” His drunken slur was lost, those last few words clear and as bright as day.
His fingers moved up to trace the line of my jaw, and I groaned when they tangled in my hair.
“Congratulations, you’ve found something I’m bad at.”
My eyes fluttered shut as his fingers lightly tugged on the strands of hair, his face inching closer.
“Don’t tell anyone.” My pulse skittered and my breathing hitched. The smell of him, mint and cologne, was more intoxicating than the alcohol I’d drunk tonight. This second, this moment, this man— that was all that mattered. I was utterly lost in him.
Him .
Gorgeous, glorious him . The man who had driven me up the fucking walls since he’d gotten here. The man who was so gorgeous it hurt. The man who poked at me, challenged me to be better.
“Let’s practice, shall we?” he mumbled in my ear. “Your mind, Trevino.” His lips brushed against my earlobe. “Seeing that brilliant mind of yours in action … You’re a real martial artist. You move like water, smooth and flowy with the fluidity of power that so many could only dream of.”
A gentle pressure from his mouth tugged at my earlobe. A hot breath followed, sending a shiver shooting up my spine.
“You’re sharp and strong and capable,” he murmured.
That pressure moved to his lips as they fell to the middle of my neck. Chance inhaled deeply, the action ripping gooseflesh to the surface of my skin.
“And fuck if that doesn’t drive me insane.
” After growling the last word, he nipped at the base of my neck, catching the delicate skin just above my collarbone.
He pulled those remarkable lips away, the cool air finding my neck instantly.
His fingers gave my hair a gentle tug again, asking me to open my eyes.
“ And …”
His lips were so close to mine, his taste already overwhelming my senses.
“You’re sexy as hell, Sunny baby.”
He began moving us to the music once more, never retreating an inch from my face but staying in time with that chorus that felt oh-so-fitting for this moment.
And with every chorus, every verse, he kissed me.
One kiss.
Two kisses.
Three kisses.
Four.