And that’s how I find myself blabbering about Lemmon for so long I lose track of time. I tell them I’ve had to give up on romantic thrillers and suspense lately because I’ve been so jumpy from everything going on. The rum and Cokes keep coming, and my lips grow looser by the minute.
They listen to me with rapt attention, hanging on to every word. Ryder just sits back, rubbing soothing circles over myskin as we chat. It feels good to have gotten it all out, spilling my guts to these gentlemen.
This leads into a discussion about the romance books they read, their favorite authors and genres, and a few romantic suspense novels they’ve picked up that reminded them of my current situation.
By the time my lids are drooping and I’m sagging into my seat, I’ve relived our entire history with Lemmon and Russ, and the guys have offered to take turns as my security detail in exchange for dance lessons once the studio is back open.
My mind feels warm and fuzzy, back slumped against Ryder’s chest as he holds my weight up. “We should get goin’, Miss Lola, but it was wonderful gettin’ to know you better,” Levi says, wrapping Ryder and me up in a hug. He smells like cloves and leather, and as we wave our goodbyes, my gaze gets caught on their jackets and leather pants.
Ryder would look damn good in leather chaps.“Baby, we should get a motorcycle,” I slur.
He chuckles, the sound tickling the skin of my neck. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s get you home.” Ryder’s words are the last thing I hear before I’m home, on my knees, clutching the porcelain throne and emptying the contents of my stomach.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
DRUNKEN WORDS, SOBER THOUGHTS
SUNDAY, JUNE 22
“It’s alright, baby,”I coo, piling Lola’s hair on top of her head as she empties her stomach. I grab a silk scrunchie from the counter, tying her hair up so I can grab a washcloth.
“I’m sorry, Ry,” she cries. “This is so gross.”
I chuckle lightly, wetting the cloth with cool water before I get down on my knees behind her, the tile biting into my skin. I wipe her mouth each time she pukes and let her get it all out. “It’s not that gross, and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” I rub circles along her back, and when she’s stopped retching, I stand, lifting her up and balancing her against the sink.
“Can you hold yourself up long enough for me to get you out of these clothes, darlin’?”
“Ry, I’m s-sorry,” she slurs. “I’m not in the mood right now.”
I chuckle, but the sound is humorless. What the hell had Russ done to her? “I don’t want to fuck you right now, baby. I want to help you shower, get you into some pajamas, and tuck you into bed. Is that okay?”
“Mmm,” she hums. “That sounds nice. Th-thank you, Ry.Y-you’ve always—” She hiccups, slapping her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
“Okay, baby. Go ahead and lean on the counter, and I’ll get you undressed and in the shower.” She plants her hands on the counter, making a point of popping her ass out as she peers over her shoulder at me.
“Like this?” she asks, her voice filled with a playful lilt.
“Yes, darlin’. Just like that,” I tease, unbuttoning her shorts and sliding them down her legs. She’s not wearing panties, but thankfully, my dick gets the message. We’re on a mission here, and he stays nice and flaccid. Well, mostly. “No panties? Such a dirty girl.” What? I’m a gentleman, not a saint.
“Only for my husband,” she says, shimmying her ass. “Is it time for my top?”
My chest expands with laughter, and I feel weightless. “Yes, baby.” I help her drag her shirt over her head, her perky little tits popping out from beneath the soft fabric. “And no bra? Well, wifey, were you hoping your husband would fuck you in the bathroom of a dingy bar?”
“I d-didn’t know where we w-were going, but I w-wanted you to fuck m-me anywhere,” she says, still hiccupping every few words. Heat simmers in my blood at her admission.
“Maybe after you’ve gotten a good night's sleep and can properly consent, we can revisit this conversation, yeah?”
“Mhmm,” she hums, her eyes closing.
“Let’s get you in the shower, darlin’,” I say, carrying her across the bathroom and setting her on the shower bench, running the water to warm. I step out, stripping down to my briefs before I climb in. “Keep your head up for me,” I instruct her gently, taking the shower head and running the warm water over her body.
She sits with a contented smile as I lather her body in shower gel, taking her hair down and wetting it. I wash and condition her hair, detangling it with a wide-tooth comb and then a wet brush like I’ve watched her do a dozen times.
I help her dry off when I’ve finished, brushing her teeth as she stands with a grin like the Cheshire cat, one that bares all her teeth to me. I do my best, and she rinses and spits into the sink. I pat her mouth dry and carry her to bed. She’s wrapped up in a towel, now fast asleep, so I take my time changing into a fresh pair of briefs. I grab one of my t-shirts, sliding it over her head.
She rolls over, her hair splayed over her satin pillowcase, reaching out to grab my face as her eyes crack open. “Thank you, Ry,” she says, planting a kiss on my mouth—or trying to. Her teeth and lips smack at my chin, and she bounces off me almost comically, flopping onto the mound of pillows behind her.
“You’re welcome, darlin’.” I flip off the lights and climb in beside her, tugging the covers up under her chin. The last words she speaks before passing out nearly steal my breath from my lungs.
