Chapter 5 Kara #3
“Your bedding is wet,” he said calmly, far too calmly for someone ten shots in while I was falling apart after only three.
“Oh,” I said quickly, forcing a small, awkward laugh. “Yeah. There’s a leak in here too.”
His eyes lifted slowly to mine, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I wondered if he was reading me, picking apart every thought I was trying very hard not to have.
“Honestly, it’s fine,” I added quickly, grasping for anything to stay on topic. “It adds character.”
I turned before he could respond, motioning for him to follow me. “Come on, your accommodations are this way.”
I pushed open the bathroom door, stepping inside and gesturing toward the tub like I was presenting something far more impressive than it actually was. “And here,” I said, aiming for something grand and landing somewhere closer to sarcastic, “are your luxurious sleeping quarters for the night.”
He stepped in behind me, his gaze moving over the space before settling on the bathtub, taking it in. And to be fair, it was one of the better features of the house. Wide and deep enough to fit both of us in... oh no, there went my thoughts again.
Absolutely not Kara!
“Impressive,” he said, bracing a hand lightly against the wall, his balance just a touch off now, and I knew those shots were finally making themselves known.
“Definitely a five-star experience.” I smiled as I watched him get his bearings again, clearly trying to play it off like he was still completely sober.
“Three at best,” he said, straightening himself.
I moved forward, setting up a makeshift bed in the tub, layering blankets and arranging pillows to make it at least somewhat comfortable. “Just keep the shower curtain closed,” I added, trying to sound casual, “in case I need to, you know... exist in here at some point during the night.”
“Noted, Ms. Thompson,” he laughed, the words dragging just slightly, his speech a bit slurred now that the alcohol had finally caught up with him—which, honestly, was about damn time!
I was starting to think he might actually be immune to whiskey.
“Nothin’ like bein’ woken up in the middle of the night by a beautiful girl when nature calls. ”
I froze, because I was sure I hadn’t heard him right. “You... you think I’m beautiful?”
His expression shifted almost immediately, like he had just realized what he’d said. “I didn’t mean to—” He stopped, exhaling softly as he shook his head once. “Perhaps you’re correct. I may be a bit tipsy.”
I let out a laugh. “Tipsy? Just admit it. You’re drunk!”
“I am not drunk.”
“You just accidentally called me beautiful.”
“Okay, fine,” he said, like the words cost him something. “I may be slightly drunk.” He hesitated, like he was searching for the right way to phrase whatever came next. “But what I said wasn’t an accident.”
My breath caught, the air stalling somewhere in my lungs as his gaze held mine, something in it sharper now, like all the quiet restraint he carried had shifted into something else entirely.
It made it impossible to look away, impossible to think clearly as he stepped closer, closing the space between us until I was acutely aware of how little distance remained.
I could smell the whiskey on his breath, mixed with something else—something faintly sweet and salty—as I inhaled deeply.
His attention dropped then, not to my eyes, but to my mouth, and the shift sent a sudden, electric heat through me.
My pulse stumbled, then quickened, that same warmth from earlier flaring stronger and pooling low, making me hyper-aware of every inch of space between us, my body wanting to reach for him and close it completely.
For a split second, everything stilled—the storm, the house, the world fading into nothing until it was just him, just this moment, just the space between us tightening with everything I almost reached for—until he stopped.
The space snapped back into place as he pulled away, the moment breaking so abruptly it left me reeling, like I had been leaning toward something I hadn’t even realized I’d already reached for.
“Goodnight, Kara,” he said quietly, like nothing had almost happened at all.
I nodded, because I wasn’t sure my voice would cooperate if I tried to use it, and turned away before I could overthink it, before I could do something reckless like step back into that space and demand he finish what he’d started.
“Goodnight,” I finally managed as I slipped out of the room, still confused.
I made it back to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and leaning against it for a moment, my heart beating just a little too fast, my thoughts still tangled in everything that had almost happened.
I pushed myself off the door and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets around me as the storm continued outside. I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain and the faint, almost imperceptible movement from the bathroom down the hall, and my thoughts refused to settle.
Because no matter how hard I tried not to, all I could think about was the octopus shifter sleeping in my bathtub, how close he had come to kissing me, and how much I had wanted him to.