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“I need to brush my teeth.”
“Where’s your bathroom?”
She points at a partially open, and well-lit, doorway on the other side of the room with a perfectly manicured finger. I follow it just like I’ve followed her all night long. Like I plan to follow her for the rest of my life. The tangle of emotions in my chest hums its assent.
Crossing the room takes no time at all, even with Sloane in my arms. When we enter the small bathroom, I drop her on the countertop by the sink. “Where’s your stuff, angel?”
She indicates her toiletries with a flick of her finger and then watches with a dazed look on her face as I place a tiny dab of toothpaste on her toothbrush, run it under water and bring it to her lips.
“Open.”
The order lights a spark in her eyes, and I know she intends for me to take it as a non-verbal challenge, but I don’t. I’m not sure why I need to do this, but nothing is going to stop me from taking care of her.
Something in my expression must tell her this isn’t a battle she’s going to win because she gives a dramatic roll of her eyes and opens her mouth. With a triumphant grin on my face, I brush her teeth, making sure to be thorough, so the taste of Jack Daniels and any other alcohol she consumed is no longer in her mouth.
When I’m done, and she’s finished glowering at me, I try to pull her into my arms again.
“I let you brush my teeth, but I draw the line at your carrying me around like I’m incapable of walking two feet without running into something.” I raise a skeptical brow at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Dom, I’m fine. And I could use a minute with the uh—”
She gestures towards the toilet, and I get the hint. “Shit. Sorry. I’ll just wait out here.”
I hook a finger in the general direction of her room and step out of the bathroom. The lock clicks behind me, and I fold myself into a desk chair. One look at the contents on the desk tells me it’s Sloane’s. Her smiling face peers up at me from a silver frame, and I pick it up to get a closer look. It’s a recent photo of her alongside an older man with medium brown skin, a bald head, and streaks of gray in his neatly trimmed beard. This must be her dad.
When I sit the picture back down, my eyes light on a colorful square of sticky notes lying beside a cup of pens. Plucking up a pen, I write a short note to Sloane on the pad then slide it to the edge of the desk closest to her bed. I finish up just as she comes slinking out of the bathroom, slowly walking past me, like she doesn’t believe she can make it to her bed without falling or bumping into something.
“You okay?”
She braces herself with one hand on the desk. “Yes. Just a little dizzy.”
“Almost there.” I rise to my feet and come up behind her, placing one hand on the small of her back. She sways into me, her hips brushing into my groin. The erection I’ve been fighting back since we left the party, springs back to life.
Sloane wiggles her hips. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
“Behave.” I smack her on the ass and walk her forward until her knees hit the frame of her bed. Reaching past her, I pull her cover and top sheet back. They smell like her already. “Alright. Up you go.”
She hops up on her bed with a pout on her full lips. “Is this how the night is going to end? With you tucking me into bed instead of climbing in with me to complete list item number four?”
“Yes.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. “But there’s always tomorrow night.”
And all the nights after. You can have me every night if you want.
Tired eyes blink up at me. “Stay. Please.”
I shake my head, but my resolve is wavering. Going back to my room to sleep alone sounds like the worst idea ever when I have an angel inviting me to her bed.
“Your phone is still dead, so I wrote my number down for you. I’m leaving it right here. Call me in the morning, okay?”
“Mhmm. Hmm.” Sloane’s eyelids flutter once, twice and then they’re closed.
With another soft kiss to her forehead, I slip out of her room, making sure the door is secure before I go. Leaving her feels wrong, but I force myself to do it anyway because she’s drunk, and I don’t know how much of this she’ll remember in the morning when her mind isn’t sluggish from alcohol. Hopefully, everything. And if not, I know the note I left will fill in the blanks, which means I’ll hear from her tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I pull out my phone and see it’s a little after 2:00 a.m., which means technically it’s already tomorrow. So today. Today, I will hear from my angel and find out if the solid knot in my chest feels any different in the light of day.
A loud ding from my phone lets me know I’ve just received a message. Even though I know she’s fast asleep, a part of me hopes it’s Sloane. Instead, I see Eric’s name flashing across the screen. He’s finally replying to a message I sent earlier about the beds in our room.
Eric: Both of them look like they sleep like shit, but if you’ve got the better one we might have to square up for it. Otherwise, I might have to tell Mama I’m staying home after all. Lol.
