Page 31

Chapter Twenty-Three

W ith her arm slung lazily over my shoulders, I guide Avery across the parking lot. Her steps are clumsy, but at least her heels are in her hand so she won’t break an ankle in them.

"You came for me," she hums, her cheek resting on my shoulder. "My sarcastic knight in shining armor."

I grunt, unlocking the passenger side and opening the door. "Yeah, well, your damsel routine was getting pathetic."

She gasps like I’ve insulted her. "Rude. I was acting perfectly fine. I'm not even drunk."

"Oh yeah? From what I heard, you were practically dry-humping the jukebox."

"I was feeling the music," she slurs, laughing as she sways. "Big difference."

I ease her into the seat and reach for the seat belt, but her hands grab at my shirt, yanking me closer.

"I missed you tonight," she whispers, lips brushing my jaw before I can stop her.

My pulse spikes. "Avery…"

She giggles again. "You smell so good. What is that? A little bit of ego and a whole lot of attitude?"

I stare at her lips as I answer, trying not to get too wrapped up in this moment. She's drunk, that’s all this is.

"Yeah, well, you smell like too many mojitos with a side of regret cocktail."

"Don’t act like you don’t like it." Her hands drift down my chest, stopping just above the waistband of my jeans. "Still hard as a rock under there?"

I curse under my breath and gently peel her fingers away. When her face falls, I laugh to try to ease the tension.

"Okay, drunk girl, let’s not get arrested in a parking lot tonight."

I drove here the second Drake called me. Grabbed my keys and left the party. I hadn’t been drinking tonight because I was worried Avery might need me, whether she knew it or not.

"Why not?" she pouts, leaning back as her dress rides higher up her thighs. "I think you’d look hot in cuffs."

Jesus Christ.

I slam the door shut and circle around the front of the car, dragging a hand down my face.

This girl is going to fucking kill me.

Now all I can picture is her cuffing me to the bed and having her way with me. That image quickly changes to me doing the same thing to her, having her spread under me and bare.

I take a few calming breaths, willing my insane hard-on not to make an appearance no matter how hard it pushes against my jeans. By the time I slide into the driver’s seat, she’s messing with the volume, singing the wrong words to a song she thinks she knows.

"Buckle up," I say, reaching over to clip her seat belt in place like I was trying to before. Our faces are inches apart; her lips parted slightly, and her glazed eyes locked on mine. I thought this position might be easier to help her buckle, but it’s like no matter where I go, I can’t escape the heat between us.

"I like you better like this," she whispers. "All bossy and frustrated. It’s pretty hot."

I groan. "Jesus, Little Lamb. You’re going to wake up with a mountain of regret."

"Nope." She grins. "Regret is a thief with nothing to offer."

She chuckles to herself, flipping down the visor to look in the mirror.

"Well, except more regret."

I shake my head, start the engine, and pull out of the parking lot, white knuckling the steering wheel and hoping like hell I don't do something I might regret—like pull over and fuck her in the back seat. How can she be such a mess and still so perfectly her ?

She hums again, curling into herself as if she were in a bed and not my car. "Tell me a story."

"No." My answer is firm. The only story I could even think to come up with right now is all the ways I want to fuck her, all the ways I want to make her mine. But I can’t do that, so I stay quiet.

"Fine. Then I’ll tell you one."

"Please don’t." My fists tighten on the steering wheel. The only thing her voice is doing is making me harder.

"I had a dream I didn’t have to choose."

"Choose what?"

"Between Callan…" She yawns dramatically. "And you."

My jaw locks. I don’t even know what to say to that because I didn't realize there was a choice to be made. I just figured there was only Callan for her, and seeing her in his hoodie tonight confirmed it for me.

But when I look over at her curled up in his jacket, her eyes are on me as if she expects me to say something insane like "choose me" or "choose us both."

She sighs dramatically, finally settling down as street lights blur past the windows. Her hand finds my arm, fingers curling around my bicep. "You came for me," she whispers again, eyes closed.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I came for you, Little Lamb."

Before we even hit the highway, she's out cold.

I glance over at her slumped against the window, mouth slightly open, and I can’t help the dry chuckle that escapes me. Drunk off her ass, but still beautiful and still a whole lot of trouble.

By the time we pull into the driveway, she hasn’t stirred once. I kill the engine, pocket the keys, then reach over and shake her gently.

"Avery, wake up."

She doesn't so much as flinch.

I get out and walk around to her side. Thankfully with her silence, my dick has calmed down.

I stand there for a second, watching her through the window. When I finally move, I open the door slowly, sure to catch her head before it falls. Then I unbuckle her seat belt and cradle her against my chest.

"You sure love being a pain in my ass," I murmur as I lift her.

"Let's get you inside," I say as I slide an arm under her legs, supporting her back with the other. I lift and she rolls into my chest.

Pausing for a second, I savor the moment of being in her presence and not hearing her run her mouth. And for half that second, I actually miss it.

Kicking the car door closed, I carry her to the house. Just as I raise my foot to go up the first step, she lifts her head.

"Put me down, Sebastian," she grumbles. Her head lolls back before snapping forward again in protest.

"Not happening. I'll put you down when we're inside." I make it two more steps before she shoves at my chest, breaths panting.

"I don't feel so hot. I’m gonna?—"

Warm liquid erupts from her mouth, trailing down my side and splattering across my shirt and jeans. I grit my teeth, jaw flexing hard as I breathe through my nose.

Fucking perfect.

She groans miserably into my chest. "I tried to warn you."

Her body starts to shake. "I—I’m sorry."

The last thing I need is her spiraling, so I hold her tighter, pretending I don't feel the wetness clinging to my clothes.

I adjust my grip on her as I kick the front door open with my foot. "You’re lucky I like you."

Her shaking stops, and she lifts her head from my chest. "You do?"

I don't answer as I carry her in.

Thankfully everyone is still out celebrating our win so the house is dead quiet. The last thing I need right now is more whispers and rumors circulating about how I'm spending too much time with "Callan's girl."

I carry Avery straight upstairs, almost tripping over someone's empty fucking beer can on the steps. When our maid isn’t here, this place turns into a dumpster and I can’t stand it.

Once we're at my bedroom door, I nudge it open with my shoulder and take her straight to my bathroom.

Avery groans as I set her down on the closed toilet lid. She looks like hell, but hell has never looked so tempting.

Her lashes flutter open and she rolls her lips, trying not to laugh. "My last mojito is dripping on the floor."

"No shit." I peel off my puke-soaked shirt and toss it into the trash. I'll try to salvage my jeans, but the shirt has too much on it for me not to lose it trying to get it out.

She stares at me with unfocused eyes, then lets out a tiny laugh. "You're still hot though."

Biting back a smile, I shake my head and start the shower. "Come on, drunk girl. Let’s wash the night off you."

I lift her to her feet, but her coordination is a mess. She ends up sitting back down, defeat in her eyes. Gently, I push the hair out of her face.

"I’ll help you," I say, lifting the bottom of her dress. When she doesn’t curse me, I pull it up and over her head as she sways, using the wall for balance.

I leave her underwear and bra on, not wanting her to feel exposed.

Steam starts to fill the room and I help her to her feet again. She sways as she reaches behind her back, trying to unsnap her bra. "Little help with this too?"

"Just leave it…"

She chuckles. "Come on now, Seb. It's not like you haven't seen my tits before."

That's a true statement; however, she was stone-cold sober the last time. I do a lot of fucked-up shit, but taking advantage of drunk girls isn't one of them.

"Just keep it on. I'll throw it in the dryer."

"Fine," she stammers. "You won't do it for me, I'll do it myself." She slides one of the straps down her arm, then the other before spinning her bra around until the clasp is at her chest. Then, with a flick of her finger, it falls, right along with my sanity.

My heart jumps into my throat when two perky breasts spring free. "Goddamn," I mutter under my breath.

Just when I think we're good, she steps out of her panties and I'm suddenly reminded of how good she tasted a couple nights ago. My eyes quickly correct themselves, pinning to her gaze instead of her body.

"You good now?" I ask.

She nods, but I’m not convinced.

"Take these off and get in with me," she says, unbuttoning my pants.

My brows lift. "You want me to shower with you?"

Her gaze drags down my body and back up. "You’re a mess too. Why not?"

I exhale, biting the inside of my cheek. "Alright then."

What was it she said about regret? Right, it's a thief. I’ll be reminding myself that every hour on the damn hour tomorrow because I'm about to shower with Avery and I’m not going to touch her for a second longer than necessary.

I tug my jeans and boxers off and step into the shower first, then gently pull her in after me. She stumbles once and I catch her, both hands locking around her waist. Our naked bodies press together, and that heat that always seems to come alive between us burns like an inferno.