36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kat
Iwas still blushing fiercely from the comments leaving the party, and the ones from Andrew and Milo in multiple languages when we parted ways in the hotel.
It probably didn’t help that as we were leaving the rooftop, and the car, Henry hadn’t let go of me.
And I hadn’t asked him to. I was just drunk enough to allow myself to enjoy the feel of his big, warm hands on me.
Did that mean it was a bad idea to go back to his room to watch a movie?
To be alone?
Absolutely not.
It was a fantastic idea. It was his birthday, after all. He and Andrew made exceptions on their birthdays. We could make other concessions for the same reason, surely.
And I had some ideas where we could start.
I was in front of Henry when he opened the door, and I had just barely noticed he’d let go of me when he was back. He hugged me from behind, wrapping his arms around me tightly and planting a slightly sloppy kiss on my cheek.
Jesus drunk Henry was adorable. Clingy, yes. Which I definitely didn’t hate. But also, adorable. I shifted slightly so I could unzip his jacket from over my sling without dislodging my spider monkey, since he was leaning on me a tad. When he realized what I was doing, he let go of me. Mostly.
He kept his hands lightly around my waist. It was like he knew I’d wobble. And I did. And he caught me. Infuriating man. He must’ve seen my glare because he laughed.
“Would you like me to let you fall next time, love?” he asked, teasingly. I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Maybe,” I hedged. I knew he wouldn’t let me fall even if I told him to.
But it was fun to pretend. But he wasn’t laughing anymore.
His gaze was focused on the tongue I’d not retracted just yet.
He pulled me toward him with the unzipped halves of his jacket, then pushed it off over my shoulders.
He kept me close with a soft hand on my waist and lifted my chin with his knuckles.
“You look beautiful tonight, Kat,” he said seriously. I flushed. I might’ve at some point, but I knew I looked like a sewer dweller right now. I opened my mouth but he tipped it shut with the knuckles still under my chin.
“Even now, Kat,” he added. I glared at him and he laughed. He fingered a single curl at the side of my face. I needed to say thank you. But he was just looking at me like… that. And I couldn’t speak.
“I know you, Kat. I know what you were going to say. And yes, your hair is a little wild and you don’t have any makeup left. But you’re beautiful. And I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you while I still could,” he finished. I swallowed. I watched him watch the movement.
“Thank you,” I managed in a low voice. That hand that had been playing with my hair suddenly swept it away from my face.
He kissed me on the cheek there, then pulled back.
But not very far. Just far enough to look me in the eyes and gently run his nose down mine.
I knew he was waiting. I glanced to the side.
I couldn’t. Not tonight. Not like this. Not drunk. Not after everything, with nothing actually resolved. I… couldn’t. When I’d been thinking about birthday shenanigans, I hadn’t been thinking about something this… raw. This… real.
I knew if he kissed me, I’d never be able to walk away again.
For his sake.
Or for mine.
“Kat,” he whispered. A question. An offer. A promise.
I shook my head.
“Not tonight. Not like this,” I whispered back.
I saw his face fall. But he nodded, and swallowed.
And released me. I knew his sober self would be angry at his drunk self for letting me see how crushed he was.
He never let anything show, not like that.
But I did see it. And I still didn’t understand it.
My unhelpful cynical side thought maybe he was upset he wouldn’t be getting laid for his birthday.
I told her to shut up. That wasn’t him at all.
And he could’ve. Easily. I knew that.
He’d chosen to be with me. I needed to explain.
But how could I make him see that if he kissed me tonight, I’d be his forever?
And more importantly, how could I make him see that that would be a bad thing?
I couldn’t.
But I could fix THIS. Right here, now. I could make sure this wonderful man didn’t think I was rejecting him. Because I honestly wasn’t. I didn’t really know what I wanted for the future. What I could handle, what I could allow myself to take, force myself to give up. But I knew how I felt tonight.
I just also knew a drunken kiss was not a good idea.
I just couldn’t figure out how to say that him kissing me, looking at me like that, somehow felt MORE than what I’d been thinking.
Something along the lines of the night of the gala. When I’d been busy on my knees before him, causing him to fall apart.
I wanted to give him THAT tonight, so very, very much.
I just couldn’t let him see that he had my heart, tonight. I’d be stupid to try to pretend he didn’t have it. But I couldn’t let him see.
We’d never make it out.
I grabbed his hand before he could fully turn away from me. I pulled him back to me. And I was as honest as I could possibly be, tonight.
“I’m not saying I don’t want you to kiss me.
Jesus, Henry, more than anything I want that.
But we’re drunk. And it’s been a very long day.
A very emotionally charged day. And I won’t lie, I came up here with some fun things in mind.
Just not… that. Not all of that. Not tonight.
Not like this. Okay?” I asked, trying to catch his eye.
I was hoping he’d understand. Hoping he’d look at me. Hoping he’d let me do all the things to him that I’d been craving and categorize it under birthday fun until I could think about it in the sober light of day.
He pulled my head to his chest, pressing a kiss to my hair. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t grumbly, pouty, drunk Henry. That was my mistake.
“How is kissing not fun? Why isn’t that on your list of fun things?” he asked my hair. I giggled. He pulled back to look at me, a small smile on his face. And I knew he understood. And was accepting my terms. I smiled back at him, laying a finger on his lips.
“Kissing is on my list of fun things. It’s actually involved in most of the things I want to do tonight.
Just not here,” I admitted, running my thumb under his lower lip.
Fuck now I wanted to nibble on that lip.
I tell myself I can’t have something and then it’s the only damn thing I want.
Luckily the flash of intrigue in his eyes distracted me from breaking my one rule for the night.
“I swear I’m not assuming you’ll stay when I ask this. But do you want something to change into? Or are you comfortable in your muddy dress?” he asked, a teasing tone entering his voice. I was NOT comfortable, in fact. At all.
I quickly toed out of my shoes, noticing I was actually pretty warm. Likely due to the alcohol and my own personal space heater. I cocked my head to the side, then decided.
“I would normally ask for a hoodie, but I’m actually pretty warm. Can I borrow a t-shirt and some shorts?” I asked meekly. He smiled and nodded, moving over to his suitcase. He tossed me an impossibly soft t-shirt that I would drown in. Excellent.
But that was all he gave me. I looked up to see him smirking at me. Challenging me. Oh buddy, I’m drunk. You really shouldn’t have done that.
“Problem, Kat?” he asked, a dangerous edge to his tone. I bit my lower lip to keep from grinning.
“Not at all,” I responded, pulling my sling off carefully and slipping the t-shirt over my head. I reached in the neck of the shirt, pulling first one tie, then the other, on the shoulders of my dress. And let it fall to my feet from under the shirt.
The shirt that hit mid-thigh if I stood up perfectly straight.
He was watching me, color high in his cheeks. From the alcohol, from something else, who knew. But the look in his eye made me suddenly very aware that I hadn’t been wearing a bra with that dress. And that the shirt was thin as well as soft.
I’d lost him, it seemed. He’d frozen, and was just staring at me. I remembered when he’d been sober, he’d had a hard time when I’d been wearing just his hoodie.
A very hard time.
I giggled, and that seemed to snap him out of it. The flush in his cheeks was definitely from a hint of embarrassment, now. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. I was starting to think it was maybe one of my favorite things, having him looking at me like that.
But I wasn’t going to tell him.
Where was the fun in that?
Clearing his throat, he pulled up the room service menu on his phone, beckoning me over.
“Let me guess. You want French fries?” he asked teasingly. I nodded, smiling. He sat down on the couch, leaning back.
“Grilled cheese?” he continued, smirking at me. I nodded again, reaching his side. I knelt one knee up next to his hip, leaning in to see the menu. Two could play that game.
“Ice cream sundae?” I countered, raising an eyebrow at him. He slid his free hand up my uncovered thigh and decidedly took the game-winning shot.
“Depends. Can I eat it off of you?”