Pulling a glass out of the cupboard, he debated filtered over tap long enough that he wanted to slap himself in the head. She wouldn’t care right now. As long as she swallowed the tablets, it didn’t matter if he got water from the tap or the fridge. Shoving the glass under the tap, he filled it to the brim then snatched the pills off the counter where he’d left them and headed back to Mazey.
He grinned. In all the ways he’d imagined himself in her bedroom, not one of the scenarios his vivid libido dreamed up involved him putting her drunk ass to bed.
She’d moved. The covers were kicked back, and one toned leg hung off the edge of the mattress, her dress hiked up her thighs, revealing her underwear.
“Fuck.”
Her panties were lace.
And definitely see-through.
The creamy skin of her pussy played peek-a-boo, and while he hadn’t turned the light on, he could easily make out bare flesh thanks to the moonlight streaming in between the open curtains.
He should close those. For her and him.
He didn’t need to see any more of her tonight, or he’d never get out of here.
Kneeling beside the bed, he placed the glass on her side table and opened the bottle. Two tablets in one hand, he shook her gently with the other.
“Maz. Mazey. You need to take these for me. Can you sit up?”
She mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over. Away from him. Her lace covered ass on full display.
“Shit.” He didn’t need her flashing him. He was already hard from spending the night watching her dance in that barely-there, second-skin dress. Scrunching his eyes closed, he tried to subdue the lust scorching his veins.
He could leave the pills beside the glass and hope she found them in the morning, or he could cover her up and try again to wake her.
Damn it. He couldn’t leave without getting her to take the pills. He’d watched her down enough alcohol tonight to put an elephant out and that was only what she’d had at Davenport’s. She and Alyssa had been tipsy when he’d picked them up from Mazey’s and taken them to the bar.
“C’mon, Maz. I just need you to take these for me.” He put the meds down, grabbed the cover, and tugged it over her butt, then reached for her shoulders. “Sit up for a minute, then you can lie back down again.”
“Hmm . . . Okay.”
Gripping her shoulders, he pulled, she pushed, and suddenly he was on the floor, flat on his back, a drunk Mazey stretched out on top of him.
He blinked a couple of times to let his brain work out what had happened, and Mazey took the opportunity to feel him up.
Yep. That was her hand palming his dick.
“So hard,” she murmured in his ear, right before her teeth sank into the lobe, and her fingers squeezed his shaft.
“Fuck. Maz. Jesus. Stop.” In his mind, he stopped her, pushed her off him. In reality, his body remained stretched out beneath hers. And he was honest enough to say at this point he kind of hoped his body won this battle.
“No, don’t wanna.” She licked his neck after whispering in his ear this time, and every inch of him went rigid except for the pulse pumping pre-come from his dick.
She would be the death of him.
It would be so easy to take her up on what she offered. Christ, he wanted it more than his next breath, butherbreath reeked of booze, and he drew the line there, no matter how tempting she was.
“Maz!”
He grabbed both her wrists and, reversing their positions, pinned her arms to the floor. She attempted to wiggle beneath him—and maybe that move hadn’t been the best for his sanity—groaning, cock throbbing, he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking into her.
“Crap. No! Up!” Following words with actions, he levered up and dragged her with him. On their feet, he moved his hands to her biceps and held her at arm’s length, speaking loud and clear. “You need to take some pain meds and drink some water before you go to bed.”
“Yes, let’s go to bed.” She smiled up at him. One of those sloppy smiles only a drunk could manage.
“We’ll go to bed as soon as you take those pills.” He’d use her alcohol muddled brain to his advantage if it meant he got her to do his bidding and got himself out of there without succumbing to her drunken advances.
