“Plus, it seemed dangerous, leaving you to fend for yourself at this rowdy old bar when you’re dressed like that.”

“Oh? When I’m dressed like this?” She bats her eyelashes playfully up at me. “You flirting with me, Mr. Barrett?”

That makes me chuckle because: “I don’t think I would know how to even if I wanted to.”

“Kind of sounds like you’re doing a pretty good job of it right now,” she says, shrugging one shoulder.

“I think you’re kind of drunk,” I laugh.

“Oh yeah?” Her smile turns Cheshire-like. “You know what I think?”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners, her scent blooms around us so sweetly, it makes me dizzy despite the ebbing of my buzz, and she looks downright sinful when she says, “I think…you kind of want to kiss me.”

Holy hell, I think, the last rational part of my brain watching as if from a distance. Tipsy Tess is bold as hell.

But I do, I realize. Terribly. It’s something I haven’t done, even with all the ways I’ve touched her, and I’m just now realizing how much of a travesty that is. Especially given that her mouth looks soft and plump, like it’s begging for the imprint of my teeth. I get flashes of images—I see her fingers in my hair and my tongue teasing hers—and I want it so badly at this moment that it feels like a tangible thing, my need.

Maybe it’s naivete on my part, the way I’m completely ignoring the distant alarms blaring in my head about the dangers of being so close to her like this, understanding it could trigger another mini heat—but for some reason, I can’t find it in me to worry right now. Maybe it’s because I’m aware that if it happens, I’ll be here to take care of her. That I’m the only one who gets to take care of her like that. It’s a heady thing to realize.

All I know is that her eyes seem bigger and brighter when she looks up at me under the pulsing lights, that my hands on her waist make my palms burn as if I’m touching her skin directly, and most importantly, that her mouth looks so soft. I watch as she starts to press up on her toes gently, and I know I could let her, that her lips on mine would be a revelation I might not recover from—but something holds me back.

Not like this, I think.

“I’d better get you home,” I say abruptly, startling her.

Her lashes flutter, not quite processing what I’ve said at first.

She rears back in confusion. “What?”

I can’t look at her now; my eyes are scanning the room for Jarred and Cat, then I signal them over. “It’s getting late. There’s supposed to be a storm this weekend. We should leave before the snow gets bad. Plus, I caught Thomas on the way in. The three of them are moving to a private party at some girl’s house. I told them I would make sure you get home.”

“I—What? Wait, it feels like you just got here!”

But I’m already pulling her by the hand across the dance floor, finding my friends to offer our goodbyes, watching a dazed Tess accept a hug from Cat.

“This was so fun!” Cat squeezes her tight. “Don’t you leave without seeing me again!”

She manages to smile even though she still looks a bit bewildered, and who could blame her? I feel sober now; my brain is whirring instead with how much of an idiot I must be, turning her down like that—but between her being so buzzed and my own insecurities about what that kiss might do to me, what it might mean…I feel myself devolving into bit of a mess.

But she’s still letting me hold her hand, oddly enough, and I weave her through the crowd until we’re out in the cold, then I drape my coat around her shoulders before I shepherd her to the Bronco. The cold air is good for my raging thoughts, and I can tell Tess is switching from confusion to irritation as she snatches her hand away, electing to climb into the car on her own.

Shit.

I can tell she wants to ask me what my deal is as she watches me fold myself into the driver’s seat and crank the engine, but she remains quiet, leaning against the passenger window with a slight pout that I would find adorable if I didn’t know I’d put it there.

I fiddle with the heat. “Cold?”

I can tell she is, but she’s still sulking, so she shakes her head.

She curls her arms around her middle as she leans on the door, watching the lights go by as I drive us out of town and toward the snowy trail that leads to the lodge. The pouting gives way to her inevitable drowsiness after about ten miles, and I notice her eyelids growing heavy when I glance at her again as we leave town.

Even as she drifts off to sleep, I still can’t fully say what the hell just happened back there.

She’s disoriented when she wakes again, leaning into me as I hold her up to help her inside. She’s still wrapped in my coat, and scenting myself on her feels so right in a way that terrifies me because it makes me want to mark her up more. I don’t really know what’s happening to me when it comes to her.

“Almost there,” I murmur. “Come on now.”

“You’re so confusing,” she mumbles sleepily. “Where are we going?”

“Putting you to bed,” I tell her. “Think you had a little too much.”

I tighten my grip around her waist as we stumble into her room, and she falters slightly when we near the bed, clinging to me tighter.

“I’m sorry,” she groans. “You’re having to take care of me again.”

I don’t tell her how much I’ve begun to like taking care of her.

“I’m starting to think you’re kind of clumsy,” I chuckle.

She blows a raspberry. “If you didn’t make me so nervous.”

“Oh yeah?” I can feel myself smiling, but I doubt she sees it with the way her eyelids are drooping again. “In you go now.”

I pull off her boots one by one as I tuck her into bed, tossing them to the floor before I pull the covers up and over her. She snuggles into her pillow, and as I shift to leave, I make out the disgruntled sound she makes, her eyes still shut.

“Should have kissed me,” she mutters into her pillow.

She’s probably right, but even now, my head is a bit messy. I’m thinking about the last time I kissed a woman I cared about, how I thought she was going to be my everything, only for me to learn that I was really nothing to her. For nearly a decade I’ve avoided ever finding myself in that situation again, and yet here I am, torn up over a woman I barely know. I can blame hormones and biology all day long, but in the end…I think it might just be her. Every new thing I learn about her only endears her to me further.

“You’re probably right,” I answer softly, knowing she can’t hear me since her breathing is already starting to even out.

I brush her hair behind her ear, tracing a barely there stroke of my thumb down her cheek. She sighs with contentment as she sinks deeper into the bed, and I finally ease myself away from the mattress to let her sleep.

Reginald’s massive form pushes past me when I open the door, jumping onto the foot of her bed and blinking at me with a bored expression. I watch as he curls up in a more comfortable lounging position near her feet, still watching me as if saying, Yeah, you should have kissed her.

I snort to myself as I close the door behind me.

Even the cat knows I fumbled this evening.

“Five more minutes,” I mumble into my pillow.

It takes me several seconds to realize there’s no one actually calling for me, but rather someone yowling at me—Reginald, sitting up straight a foot away from me on the bed and making disgruntled sounds. I lift my head to peer over at him, trying to remember how he got in here. Did he sleep with me all night?

At least the cat is starting to like me.

I stretch under the covers as my mouth opens with a wide yawn, blinking away the lingering sleep from my eyes. I feel mostly okay, even though I overindulged last night, but I could have definitely used another hour of sleep.