Ella's POV.

But it was too late.

My stomach rebelled, and I clamped a hand over my mouth as the vodka-tequila cocktail surged back up, landing directly on his clean shirt and the muscular chest beneath it.

A gasp escaped me, but part of me felt oddly relieved, as though I had finally gotten it out of my system. The other part was horrified that I had just thrown up all over him.

He looked down at the mess, then back at my wide-eyed, frozen face.

For a long, tense minute, neither of us moved. Then he suddenly let out a low, amused chuckle, like I had just told him...