When he starts pushing my gown up higher, that’s when it all sinks in, and the passion dies, turning to ashes as reality steals the lust. The glassy eyes, the unusual aggression… It’s just like Cancun all over again. Wren is drunk. Damn it!
“Stop,” I whisper, cursing inwardly at how weak my demand is.
He doesn’t stop, possibly because he couldn’t hear the barely audible word that I managed to get out.
His lips and tongue find my side, and I contemplate saying to hell with it as he kisses a trail back up to my breasts, getting closer and closer to baring my body to him.
“Stop,” I say louder, this time weakly pushing against his shoulders.
He rises, looking confused, and my eyes dart down to his mouth. Groaning, I push harder, and he rolls off me, revealing his sexy as hell naked body. Torture. Pure and utter torture.
His very impressive erection is still jutting out, tempting me to just straddle him and take what I want. But Angel crosses my thoughts. I don’t have the option of being reckless. This is her father.
Then the sting of the rejection I felt seven years ago wanders close to the surface. Wren is a dick when he’s drunk.
“I did something wrong?” he asks, still seeming confused and completely lacking modesty as he gives me the full, ungodly perfect view of his bare body.
“You’re drunk,” I grumble, standing up and moving toward the door. I don’t say anything else as I walk out.
I guess I’ll sleep in the room between the porno. It’s better than losing another piece of myself to Wren Prize when he’s too drunk to even give a damn. Apparently it takes a lot of alcohol for him to lose control of himself. I wish I was enough to make him do that.
It’s just one more reason Wren and I have to be friends and nothing else. I want a guy who can’t stay away when he’s sober—not just want me when he’s drunk. At least I can take solace in the fact that he won’t remember this tomorrow.
Chapter 21
WREN
I hate Corbin. I hate Maverick. I hate my fucking headache.
Glaring at the bottle beside my bed, I decide I also hate whiskey. As I slowly shift up, I start massaging my temples, trying to dull the ache.
My bed is still made, since I passed out naked on top of the covers. Shit. I’m glad no one has walked in.
My blood goes cold in my veins as fuzzy memories assault me, and my head snaps up so quickly that it feels like a bowling ball rushes forward and slams into my forehead.
Cursing I grip my head, and then I look around. Allie. Maybe it was a dream. She’s not here.
Glancing down at my painfully hard cock, I decide there’s no way I’ve had sex. At least there’s no proof of it.
Stop. Her voice echoes in my mind. Stop.
Oh shit. The color drains from my face as more memories surface. She made me stop. Shit. I was so drunk that I mauled her and tossed her down on my bed. But why else would she show up so late and let herself into my room?
No. No. It was just a dream. The muddled images are just incoherent parts of the dream masquerading as memories.
I stand, still feeling the painful erection that I swear hurts worse than anything I’ve felt in a while.
It takes me a second to grab some clothes from my drawers, and I mentally make a note to restock my stuff here. My supply is getting outdated.
As I start pulling on my boxers, I turn my head around, scanning the room. When my eyes land on a pair of shredded laced panties beside the bed, I lose my footing, and bust my ass with only one leg inside the boxers. I curse as a shot of pain shoots up my spine. But the thoughts of physical pain flee to make room for the real horror.
It was real.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How in the hell am I going to fix this?
With jerky movements, I finish tugging on my boxers, and then I stand to quickly dress. After I’m finished, I grab my phone and walk out the door, running a hand through my hair as I head toward Allie’s room.
It takes a while, but I finally reach her door, and push through it to find the bed has been made and it looks untouched. Shit.
Is she already gone? Would she have called a taxi? Will she be so pissed that she takes Angel away from me?
I practically sprint back toward the stairs, and I run toward the kitchen where my keys are. But I stumble to a halt in the dining room when I see everyone at the table. Mom is sipping her coffee and talking to Allie, while others are eating breakfast and laughing. The only people missing are Ethan, Rye, Brin, and thankfully Billy. Hmm. No Maverick either.