I choke on my wine.
The liquid goes down wrong and I'm coughing, sputtering, my eyes watering as I try to catch my breath. Through my tears, I see one of his beautifully designed throw pillows on the couch beside me.
I grab it and throw it at his head.
It hits him square in the chest—he probably heard it coming—and bounces harmlessly to the floor.
"Go away!" I manage between coughs, my face burning with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure.
Winter chuckles, this low, dark sound that does absolutely nothing to help my situation, and turns away. I watch as he disappears around a corner that probably leads to his bedroom, my eyes tracking the flex of his back muscles through his shirt with each step.
Ugh.
I can feel myself pulsing. Aching. My body is screaming at me to follow him
