Page 42 of Worth Every Game
“You’re sweet,” she drawls, interrupting my thoughts and prodding the island with one finger to anchor herself. “I like you a lot more than I thought I did.” She smiles up at me, and the flicker of happiness that ignites in my heart takes me bysurprise. “I like it best when you take your shirt off. One day, I’d like to f—”
I press a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Drunk talk is bad talk. Save it for when you’re sober.”
Her lips form a sloppy grin against my finger, and she makes that purring sound again. “You’re not trying to win the game.”
Does she think I’d take advantage of her? Or was she about to beg me for sex?
“You mean because you’re drunk? I wouldn’t do that.”
She glances at me. “You’re a good man. Even if you do throw your money around like Mr Monopoly.”
Mr Monopoly?I’m about to make a witty comeback when she groans. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much.”
“Do you want food? Are you going to be sick?”
“Maybe.”
I get her a glass of water and an Alka Seltzer, insisting she drinks it, and then I fry some bacon and make her a sandwich, which she eats with inebriated gusto, licking the grease from her fingers. Afterwards, as I’m clearing up, she falls asleep, snoring gently against the counter.
I watch the rise and fall of her shoulders, and the way her hair shifts with each breath. I can’t leave her here. She’ll fall off the stool and hit her head on the stone floor.
I pick her up, cradling her in my arms, and carry her up to her room. I put her on the bed, and briefly wonder if I ought to take her clothes off, and then immediately reason that I can’t possibly do that, so I tuck her under the covers fully clothed instead.
But she’s so drunk, I can’t leave her alone. What if she throws up? I put the waste-paper basket at the side of the bed in case she vomits, and sit in the chair by the window. I’ll sleep right here, and if she’s sick, or she needs help, I’ll be nearby.
I’m about to lower myself into the chair when I really take a look around the room.Fuck, it’s messy in here. Does sheever hang up her clothes? Put stuff away?I try to ignore the mess, but everywhere I look, something’s out of place.Damn it.Quietly, I fold up the clothes strewn about the room and put her shoes back in pairs near the cupboard. When I’m done, I settle into the chair to wait.
“Jack?”
I spring to my feet, rushing towards her before I know what I’m doing. “Yeah?”
“Will you hold me?”
My muscles seize, and I halt halfway across the room. She seriously wants me to get into bed and hold her?Christ.“What?”
“Please.” Her head is rolled halfway into the pillow, her mouth against it. It’s hard to understand what she’s saying, but she shifts and her next sentence is clear. “I’m so sad.”
Those three words reach inside me, grip on, and start to fucking tug. I hate the idea of her being sad. I knew she was, or at least suspected it after her behaviour tonight, but to hear it spoken so plainly in her own words is haunting.
“Please?” she says again, and a sound like a sob fills the room, making the tension that had taken hold of my shoulders grip harder. I can’t leave her here, drunk and miserable. She wants company. That’s it.I can give her that, can't I?I won’t try to win this stupid game I’ve set in action. We can put all of that aside tonight.
I bend to untie my shoelaces and slip my shoes off. “Okay.” At my agreement, she gives a sweet-sounding sigh that gets me hot in places it shouldn’t.Focus, Lansen.She’s drunk. This is not a moment to get aroused; this is me making sure I don’t need to take her to A&E to get her stomach pumped. This is me, offeringcomfort.
This isn’t something I normally do with women. I like to keep things casual. Sex is fine, but this… whateverthisis, is not in my repertoire. I don’tsnuggle.
But for some reason, I find myself climbing into the bed next to her and sliding into place like a big fucking spoon in a cutlery drawer. I don’t want to disturb her any more than necessary, so I stay quiet and slide my hand around her waist. She’s so soft, so warm, sosmallcompared to me. I’m barely breathing, but I can smell the citrus scent in her hair, and without thinking I shift a little closer so I’m nuzzling her neck.
What the fuck am I doing?
My heart is thudding, and there’s a definite unease in my stomach, like the contents are tidal. Being this close to her is affecting me on some unexpected level. I’m hyper-alert, more so than I am behind the wheel of one of my cars.Somethingis happening here, but I don’t know what, and while it’s not entirely comfortable, it’s not unpleasant, either.
“This okay?” I whisper, my voice rough against her ear.
“Mmm.” She slides her hand over the back of mine, where it rests on her waist, and threads our fingers. “Thank you. I don’t want to be alone. I’m always alone.”
Fucking hell.She’s trying to wreck me. She’s normally so bold that hearing her talk like this makes it feel as though I’m witnessing something I shouldn’t. A peek behind the curtain Elly normally keeps tightly drawn.
“I wanted to be famous,” she slurs. “When I was a kid. I wanted to be Taylor Swift.”