“Like what?”
“You’re drunk,” I point out. “I refuse to take advantage of that, no matter how much I crave you.”
“It’s not taking advantage if I want it too.”
We reach my room, and after setting her on the bed, I lock the door. I shove my hands through my hair, trying like hell to hold on to every ounce of my control. When I turn back around to face her, my mouth waters.
“Like what you see?” she taunts, kneeling on the mattress, naked as the day she was born.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Love it,” I croak.
“Take what you want, Ghost. Please.”
At least she didn’t say ‘fuck me’. I don’t think I’d have been able to resist that. But taking what I want… That I can do.
I quickly strip and join her on the bed. Pulling her down to lie in the crook of my arm, I yank the blanket up to cover us and then kiss her shoulder.
“Sleep, Em,” I whisper. “I want you to sleep.”
CHAPTER 22
EMBER
We can do that.
The poundingin my head wakes me up, and I roll over as my stomach pitches. Fortunately, I don’t puke because the last thing I want to do is clean up a mess. An arm settles on my side, startling me, and my eyes fly open.
“You okay?”
Ghost?
“Um…” Cotton coats my tongue, and I try to swallow past the thickness. “No.”
He chuckles and sits up to lean over and stare into my eyes. “You didn’t even drink that much.”
I narrow my eyes. “Asshole.”
His face disappears for a moment and then returns, his grin still present. I’d like to slap that grin away, but I’m afraid if I move too much, I’ll die.
“Here,” he says, handing me a glass of water and two Tylenol. I shake my head, instantly regretting it. “It’ll help, Em.”
“Can’t sit up,” I mumble. “Too hard.”
He slides an arm under my back to ease me into a sitting position. My stomach rolls, and I slap a hand to my mouth.
“Breathe,” he urges. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” I follow his lead, and the nausea abates. “Better?”
“Little bit.” I take the water and wash down the Tylenol with a small sip. My head clears slightly, and I glance around before my eyes land on him… specifically, his bare chest. “Uh…”
“Nothing happened,” he assures me. “You got naked and were very tempting, but all we did was sleep.”
“Right.”
“How muchdidI drink last night?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“You only had four beers,” he tells me. “You used to be able to tolerate more than that.”
“What about the shots? How many of those did I have?”
