Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“You smell good,” I murmured to myself. Because he had smelled good. It was the strangest combination of outdoors musk, pine, and… gasoline? I remember thinking about the one time I was in the arms of a man who smelled like that. It had been two years ago, and the man was so off-limits it wasn’t even funny. Which was why I’d been doing something I shouldn’t have been doing. And why I hadn’t minded so much getting caught.
“Yeah, you said that before.” He knelt and lifted me into his arms. My stomach protested the movement and I whimpered, swallowing furiously and trying to keep the nausea at bay. “Bathroom,” he said, carrying me. Which only made the nausea worse. Also, I really had to pee.
The guy seemed to understand my urgency because he made it to the bathroom fast. Just in time, too, because everything I’d ever eaten over my whole entire life and absorbed in the womb before I was born came up out of my stomach in a violent gush of foul-smelling, explosive puke. And I might have peed a little before I realized.
The toilet flushed and I startled. Oh. The good-smelling guy. Who knew just how much I’d debased myself. And had watched me puke my guts up. Lovely.
“Ohhhh…” I sat back on my ass, holding my head in my hands. I wished I could see him but my vision was blurry from tears and the needles stabbing through my eyeballs straight to my brain, making both hurt like a son of a bitch.
“Seem to be fond of that sound. I take it you’re not used to this much alcohol?” God, his voice was yummy! I could listen to that raspy rumble every single day forever.
“Some woman’s a lucky bitch and I hate her.”
There was silence before he spoke again. This time, I didn’t think he was talking to me. “Stitches back yet? Tell him I need him in my room. Now.” There was a pause. “I don’t give a flyin’ fuck what the bastard’s doin’ right now, tell him to get the fuck up here!”
Wow. That sounded bad.
Stitches. That name was familiar. I should know who that was. Sounded like a road name, like my brother. His was Blade. I always thought it was because he was a doctor, but he said that wasn’t it. And why was I thinking about my brother? I wanted to think about the man who’d carried me to the bathroom. Except, for some reason, I didn’t want to think about him either. Or, more accurately, that he’d carried me to the bathroom and sat with me while I’d just brought up a comedic amount of puke…
I groaned. “This cannot be my life right now.” A washcloth appeared in front of me and I took it gratefully, wiping my face with the cool rag. “Thank you.” I muttered. A glass of water appeared as well. He took the cloth and I took the glass, rinsing my mouth out before spitting it in the toilet and flushing. Then I gulped the rest of the contents down like I’d been a week in the desert with no water. My mouth felt like I had.
“Need a toothbrush.”
“Got one ready.” I shivered. That voice could melt panties across four counties. Scratch that. Across forty or fifty states. “Come on, lil’ bit.”
I froze. I’d heard that nickname only once in my life. Two years ago. “No.” I shook my head, then groaned as both pain and dizziness assailed me. “God…”
“Pretty sure God had little to do with it. Stand up and brush your teeth. Stitches will be here in a minute.”
I tried to get up, but my legs didn’t seem to work. Neither did my balance. When I fell back on my ass, gentle hands lifted me into strong arms and the next thing I knew I was standing in front of the vanity at the sink.
“Open your eyes,” he said. “Dizziness’ll be worse if you keep them closed.”
“Don’t wanna open my eyes,” I pouted.
“Afraid the real world will come crashing down around you?” His arm was solidly around my waist, holding me upright. My knees felt like Jell-O and the room was spinning so violently with me upright, I was pretty sure I was going to hurl again.
“Something like that.” My voice was more of a whimper than anything else. It shamed me, given I was pretty sure I knew who this man was, but I was too sick and hung over to give it much thought. Which was kind of my motto. Never worry today about something you can put off until tomorrow.
“Open.” His voice was commanding but gentle. In my weakened state, I had no choice but to obey that tone of voice coming from this guy. Who I was pretty sure I knew.