“What are you doing?” a gruff masculine voice asks softly.
I blink my heavy eyes open to find the source, and it’s…the yummy Viking.
He’s standing beside the bed, towering over me in his black leather vest and jeans, a scowl on his gorgeous face, hands braced on his hips.
“You’re really here,” I murmur. “I thought you were just a naughty dream.” The bedroom walls and paintings behind him are way too plain and boring. It’s not a room I recognize. “Or maybe this is still the dream. I’m so confused.”
“You’re just really drunk,” the Viking says. “I brought you to a hotel to sleep it off. Our flight leaves in the morning.”
“Okay, sexy. Whatever you say,” I reply with a smile. “But what are we gonna do tonight?”
“We’re gonna both get some sleep,” he says when he reaches over and grabs my wrist to pull my hand out of my panties. “If we go to bed now, we’ll get a full eight hours before we have to leave for the airport.”
“I’m too turned on to sleep,” I admit. “Lick my pussy until I come?”
His chuckle is choked before it turns into a cough. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because it’s not.” His statement leaves no wiggle room at all.
He’s turning me down? Where the hell did he come from? He must be gay. That has to be it. Straight men never turn down a chance at having sex with me. I’m tall and curvy, and they’re all horny. In fact, Bob said so himself, sex is all I’m good for after all. If the Viking doesn’t want to screw me, then what does he want?
“I’m so confused,” I say again as I try to make sense of what’s going on here. “Who am I? No, wait. That’s not right. Who are you?”
“We’ll talk more in the morning when you can actually remember our conversation. Now go to sleep,” the Viking says sternly, turning off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in pitch-black darkness so that all I want to do is sleep at this current moment in time.
I like how bossy this man is, and even though I’m horny as hell, I’m also incredibly tired. That’s why I give in. Flopping over to my side, I tuck my hands under my cheek and let my body fall back to sleep. Although, I still wish I could figure out why the Viking doesn’t want me.
Conrad
* * *
I’m in way over my head.
I should’ve insisted that Cannon come with me because it may take the two of us to restrain this sex-crazed woman.
No wonder Chief Bailey was so determined to have someone come and get her. She had no business sleeping with a man who is old enough to be her father, and even worse, was willing to let me have sex with her without knowing a goddamn thing about me. How fucked-up is that?
From what I can tell, Hannah is out of control and found the perfect man to let her get away with being buck wild, including drinking so much that she doesn’t know where she is or what’s going on.
Tomorrow, once Hannah is sober, things should hopefully get easier. She’ll probably be pissed about having to go home on her dad’s orders, but at least she won’t be like this, so…provocative.
I’ve never met a woman like her. It has to be the alcohol in her system making her act like that. I have nothing against women who love sex. That’s perfectly fine. I’ve seen plenty throwing themselves at Cannon and the other Savage Kings, but none of them have ever been so demanding about it. Hannah is way too young to not have more respect for herself.
I sit in the chair on her side of the room in the dark, waiting until her breathing finally slows and becomes steady when she drifts off to sleep, and then I go to my bed on the other side of the suite. Sitting down on the side of the mattress, I finally pull out my phone for the first time since I found the professor’s house.
There’s a text message from the chief, asking for a status update.
Sighing, I quickly shoot him a message back that says Hannah’s with me and our flight leaves at eleven in the morning. He doesn’t need to know all the gritty details about what happened tonight. What father would want to hear about how their daughter tried to have sex with me and asked me to go down on her?
It has to have all been an act. She must have been joking. There’s no way a twenty-year-old woman would try and fool around with a man she just met, especially when she doesn’t even know my name. What if I had been an asshole who took advantage of her while she was drunk, like the professor? Does the chief know she drinks like a fish even though she’s not supposed to touch alcohol legally?
As if the man is psychic, my phone dings in my hand with a text from him.
Keep her sober until she’s home. When I find a spot at a rehab facility, I’ll text you the address. You should go straight there when you’re back in town.
So I guess he is aware. I remember from the day the chief showed up to blackmail me into doing this favor for him he mentioned Hannah had recently been arrested for public intoxication. After being with her for less than an hour, it’s obvious that she needs serious help, which her father is apparently going to get for her once she’s home.
That’s a decent thing for Chief Bailey to do, which is surprising since he’s always acted like a dick.
Whatever. It’s none of my business. I never want to see him or his daughter again once my part of the deal is done.
I just hope that he never needs another favor in the future because I have zero doubts that the asshole will continue to hold those videos over my head until he dies.
Not a damn thing I can do about it now, though. I need to get to sleep because tomorrow is going to be a long day of sitting on a cramped airplane, keeping an underage alcoholic from doing anything crazy.
I take off my shoes, cut, and pants to climb under the covers, praying that there won’t be any delays in the morning flight or layover in Dallas. But instead of closing my eyes, I keep watching the red numbers on the hotel alarm clock. Half an hour goes by, then an hour, and I still can’t fucking fall asleep. When it’s obvious I’m not tired enough for sleep, I even get up and go peek into the other room to make sure Hannah is still there and breathing, worried she could have alcohol poisoning.
She seems fine – right where I left her.
It’s the longest night of my life lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling, occasionally glancing at the clock.
Finally, sometime after four in the morning, I’m able to slip into unconsciousness only to be woken up to the sounds of heaving at 6:00 a.m.
Chapter Seven
Hannah
* * *
Most people hate throwing up.
For me, it’s cathartic – a cleansing of some of the nastiness inside of me. An exorcism of some of my bad decisions. I make so many of those that it’s important to purge a few so there’s room for more. Because there will always be more. I haven’t made a single good decision in years.
And sure, puking sucks while it’s happening, but afterward I’ll feel much lighter and better about myself, at least until I do the next stupid thing in my life.