Is it the tequila, the music, or the conversation we had after my dad’s family showed their true colors?

I glance at her cleavage and smile. Or it’s the sexy dress she’s wearing. The fucking dress she hated so much when we bought it but looks perfect on her body. Tightly molded to her curves and just begging to be peeled off. It gives me all kinds of ideas about how to get her out of it.

And to think she’s been this close to me all along.

Three fucking years and I never realized how beautiful, sweet, and sassy she is.

Who knew she was so fucking sexy?

“It was nothing,” she murmurs, her lips just inches from mine.

I can feel her soft breath on my neck. I meet her whiskey-colored eyes, shining with lust and a hint of tenderness. My chest tightens, just like it did earlier when she pulled me out of the restaurant.

Because what she did was more than just getting the fuck out of the train wreck that is our family reunion. It meant a lot to me. The concern in her eyes when I tensed as my uncle began to spew shit, how quickly she reacted to my cues, and how easily she distracted me from my family’s issues.

I want to forget my family, my life, and everything that came before her. At least for tonight.

Just for one night, I want to focus on Claire Solis.

My only goal is to savor her, explore every inch of her body.

“You might be right,” she says, breaking the silence and our connection.

“About?” I ask, dropping my face to her neck and nibbling her soft skin.

She smells so good, like flowers and coconut. I want more of this taste, I want to get to know every inch of her body, learn every sound she makes, and claim her as mine, at least for tonight.

“You’re more like a Han Solo. A very misunderstood Han Solo,” she says, caressing my cheek and staring at me with dazed eyes.

I cup her face, hold her firmly and ask, “Would that make you my princess?”

Claire chews the inside of her lip; her eyes darken and fixate on me. “Oh? Am I a princess now?”

“For tonight, you are.” I wink at her. “A very naughty princess, unless you don’t want to continue. I have to know, are you okay with this? We’ve had a few drinks and I don’t want to—”

“Casual,” she says. “You said it, it’s just for the weekend. I want this as much as you do, Miller. Let’s make it good—perfect.”

“Unforgettable,” we say in unison, her voice sounding a bit breathless.