“My place.” He probably should have explained that up front.
“Just ‘cause you saved me doesn’t mean you get to pop my cherry.”
And she was a virgin, too. Please, Jesus, don’t let her remember any of this in the morning. “You can keep that and everything else intact.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart, hope to die.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her relax in the seat, and her smile returned.
He was grateful she didn’t protest when they reached their destination. Not only for his sake, but it was another reason to be relieved he interrupted the restaurant conversation when he did. If she was this pliant, he didn’t want to imagine what Arrogant Asshole would have gotten away with. He could imagine it. Hell, he had dozens of sites devoted to the various kinks associated with the consensual version, but that didn’t mean he wanted the thought.
She leaned into him on the elevator ride up. She was soft. Warm. Smelling like sugar and vanilla. They made it down the hallway to his room, and he let her inside. She stumbled toward the bed and collapsed without another word.
Within seconds, her breathing evened out. She had to be sleeping. It gave him a better chance to study the faded T-shirt, the jeans with strategic tears along the thighs and calves, and the battered Converse. She was built like Mercy—narrow waist, subtle curves—but nothing about the way she held herself resembled her sister.
“Shtaring is creepy.” She sounded drowsy.
“Sorry.”
She tried to toe off her shoes and failed.
“Come on.” He helped her sit up, untied the sneakers, and tugged them off.
She settled her palm on his face and used her thumb to trace the scar that ran under his eye.
He couldn’t feel the contact, but he swore it burned down to his skull.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing important.” He helped her slide under the covers. “Old wounds. Doesn’t matter.”
The explanation seemed to appease her. “Okay. Thank you.”
Moments later, soft snores floated from the bed. Holy fuck, it was going to be a long night. He glanced at his phone. It was only eight. Wonderful. How long until Mercy got back to him?
He settled into the chair by the bed, turned the TV on low volume, and waited. With any luck, Susan would be out of here and in a guest bed at Mercy’s before she woke up and freaked out about being in a stranger’s hotel room. The night was about fifty-fifty in his favor so far. He’d hold out for one more miracle.