Surprise Me Maybe

11. You Booze, You Snooze

His emerald green eyes are staring at me with a sharpness that can cut a diamond. With both his hands caging me, he leans closer.

"I have to say, I was a little disappointed with what you said at the dinner."

"What did I say?"

"That we have come to agree with a lot of things because we're trying to parent Chloe together. And that's it. That you won't want anything else from me."

I tilt my head while trying to process his words. It's getting hard to think clearly with this proximity. "What's wrong with what I said?"

"You tell me, Charlotte," he murmurs. "Do you not want anything else from me? At all?"

I blink. Is he drunk from all the water and club soda he had at the restaurant? Or is it the side effect of having to sit with two crazy women for a good two hours? "I..." I try to reply to him but my dumb brain can't find any smart answer to that.

"Because as far as I know, you haven't succeeded in ignoring the mutual attraction between us, and you've been pretty naughty tonight." When I'm still too dumbfounded to respond to his statement, he continues, "Look at me straight in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."

The image of Ashton's hand resting on my thigh with occasional soft squeezes rushes into my mind, followed by the happy dance of the butterflies in my belly. Of course, he knew I was enjoying it a little too much.

"I still don't know where you're g-going with this?" I stammer.

Ashton leans closer until his lips are only a few inches from mine and his minty breath is fanning my face. Then his finger strokes my cheeks gently, forcing me to hold my breath. "Tell me if you still don't want anything else from me after I do this." And he closes the gap between us.

He brushes his lips against mine softly and his movement is excruciatingly slow, making me yearn for more contact. I open my mouth, letting out a sigh as my breath is picking up the pace. Taking advantage of the moment, he deepens the kiss and moves his lips against mine. And I welcome him.

It has been three months since we kissed but the memory of it is still fresh in my mind. This is exactly how I remember it: soft, exquisite, yet intense. Wait, no, this is better. This is...addictive. All I know is that kissing him while intoxicated doesn't do justice to the sober one.

His tongue trails along the seam of my lips, urging me to open them and granting him entrance. But then he stops and pulls away slightly while keeping his eyes on me, reading my face intently. I whimper from the sudden absence of contact and instinctively lean into him, wanting his lips back on mine, but he's not giving it this time.

"I thought you didn't want anything else from me," he murmurs.

"Shut up." I grab him by the neck a little too hard, proven by his strangled throaty voice before I slam my lips on his. If he doesn't give it to me, I will make him because I'm a woman on a mission now. Regrets, embarrassment, and sanity can wait.

We kiss again, hard and furiously. Our tongues are everywhere, exploring each other with more force while his hands are holding the back of my head. Clutching the sides of his shirt, my torso is sandwiched between his chest and the garage door, but that's the last thing I care about right now. I'm just lost in him, in our heated make-out.

After a while, the uneven wooden surface starts to give my back discomfort. I break the kiss while panting hard. "Ugh. My back," I say, half grunting.

"Oh." He pulls away to give me room to straighten my torso but both his hands are trapping me again. "You haven't answered my questions, Charlotte."