Page 51 of My Killer Blind Date

I squint my eyes. ‘… and a little eau de … old dishrag?’

He laughs, which warms me faster than whiskey would – not that I’m drinking anything beyond that first minuscule sip.

‘Be right back,’ he says. ‘Restroom.’

Perfect! As soon as I hear the door close, I slip quietly off my chair and pour my glass of bourbon down the sink, keeping only the smallest bit of liquid kissing the bottom.

I hear the toilet flush, return to my seat and angle my near-empty glass of liquid up to the light, frowning as if disappointed it’s gone.

‘You drank it all?’ he says with genuine surprise.

I widen my eyes. ‘Wasn’t I supposed to?’

His eyes crinkle with amusement. ‘I mean, far be it from me to tell a lady how to consume a beverage … but yes, normally people sip it more slowly. It’s strong stuff.’

‘You’re strong stuff,’ I say in what I hope is a very sexy voice. I slide off the bar stool, go on tiptoes and drag my tongue up his neck. Slowly. His skin is warm under my mouth. He doesn’t move, but I can feel his pulse beat under my tongue, and he releases a barely audible exhale at the end.

‘What are you doing to me, Margot?’ he says in a low voice, bracketing my hips with his strong hands. I’m not a short girl, but Liam’s height makes me feel tiny in the best of ways. I don’t know why feeling tiny would be good, logically speaking, especially given our specific circumstances, but what can I say. Something primal appears to be at work.

Since his question doesn’t really need an answer, I just stand there, his hands on me, feeling the heat radiating off his body, feeling the flush in my own face, which is definitely only from adrenaline and not at all from my alarmingly rabid levels of desire.

I reach up a finger and trace it down his neck, the same line of skin I just licked. I watch with satisfaction as he visibly shivers. Time for phase three. ‘Bedroom?’

‘You don’t have to ask twice,’ he says with a throaty laugh, looping his finger with mine and leading the way.

He reaches for the light switch but I stop him. ‘I like the dark.’ Then I push him on to the bed. He falls back with an oof and a laugh. I climb on top of him, which feels like the safest possible position, tugging my purse off my shoulder and plopping it down to my left, within arm’s reach, then rake my hands through his hair, releasing the scent of his shampoo.

‘You’re so … hot,’ I say, intentionally sounding a little looser, a little sillier than normal.

He pushes his head up so our lips touch, and I press down into him. I cup his face in my hands, feeling the rough scratch of stubble against my palms, as he reaches up and grabs my ass.

It’s all feeling so delicious, it’s almost a pity that I have to pull back.

‘Oooh,’ I groan.

He immediately props himself up on his forearms. ‘What’s wrong? Are you OK?’

I force a giggle. ‘Liiiiam, I think I really did screw up with that bourbon. I’m drunk! I can’t engage in … consensh … consensual …’

He climbs out from under me. ‘Hey. Let me get you a glass of water. And then if you want, I can totally take you home—’

‘No!’ I shriek, reaching for his hand and pulling him back toward the bed with all my strength. ‘I mean, not yet! I want to snuggle.’ He’s hesitating, so I turn on the charm. ‘Pleeeease. I love snuggles!’

‘OK,’ he relents, sounding amused but also concerned. ‘We can snuggle.’

‘Oh good!’ I say, plopping down on my side facing my purse. ‘You’re the big spoon.’

His body folds around me awkwardly. I reach an arm back, grab his hip and tug him closer. He chuckles.

‘OK,’ he says as he starts to relax. ‘Snuggles, huh?’

‘You don’t normally do this?’

‘I can honestly say I’ve never snuggled anyone. Not since I was a little kid.’

‘What? That’s tragic!’

‘What’s so great about it?’