“Okay,” she murmured, leaning into him.
Lowering her to the edge of the mattress, with one hand on her to keep her upright, he reached for the medication with the other.
“Here.” He pushed the tablets against her lips. To his surprise, she opened wide, and he dropped them on her tongue. Next, he passed her the glass and watched as she drank the whole thing in one go. She handed it back, her eyelids at half-mast as she peered up at him with glazed eyes.
“Can we go to bed now?”
“Sure.” He let her lay back then stood up straight.
“Hey! Where are you going? Come to bed with me.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. No way could he climb in there and not fuck her despite his code of ethics on drunk partners. “I just . . .” He glanced around the room. “I’m just closing the curtains.”
He’d taken two steps when she made a strange groaning, gurgling, painful sound. “Gonna be—” Before he could turn, she vaulted off the bed and raced passed him.
“Shit.” He knew how this ended. And in that second, he knew his fate was sealed. He wasn’t going anywhere now.
When he got to the bathroom, Mazey was sprawled on the floor beside the toilet, her head and hair in the bowl. Her whole body convulsed with each retch, and from the smell, he hoped there wasn’t a naked flame nearby.
It was too late to save her hair from disaster, but he pulled it out of her face and held it against the back of her neck anyway. While Mazey continued to throw up, Rylan calculated the best way to deal with the mess.
One glance at her dress and the floor under her knees, and he knew they hadn’t faired any better than her hair. There was nothing to do but strip her down and put her in the shower.
He just had to think of her as a mission, pretend he wasn’t going to get the woman he had the hots for naked and wet.
Fuck!
He was definitely a dead man.
He already had a mild case of blue balls after weeks of wanting. Now it would be terminal.
Mazey finally stopped retching, her head lulling to the side, eyes closed, a harsh moan slipping through her lips.
Yeah, he bet she felt like crap right now. At least she’d emptied her stomach of any remaining alcohol, which meant it wouldn’t be hitting her veins during the night. Of course, she’d also thrown up the pain meds so he’d have to try and get some more into her and hope she could keep them down.
For now, he had to strip her out of the ruined dress and get her clean.
He couldn’t find a zipper anywhere, and if he trailed his hands over her body looking for one much longer, there was a chance he’d come in his pants. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the hem with one hand, and the two of them wiggled around until he got the dress up and over her head.
Although that meant they both took an impromptu shower in vomit.
“Shit!”
Resigned to his fate, Rylan walked her forward into the shower and turned on the water, taking the cold spray on his clothed back until the hot came through.
He didn’t have a clue how he’d get her clean until he noticed the handheld showerhead on the wall. Inspired, he eased her down to the floor and propped her against the wall. Good thing Mazey’s shower had a decent amount of space. Switching the water from the ceiling head to the handheld, he lifted it out of the bracket.
It was like washing his truck. Something he wasn’t voicing out loud. She’d kill him if she heard him compare her to his jacked-up truck. Grinning, he set out to rinse as much of the vomit from Mazey’s hair and body as he could. The whole time trying desperately not to notice her curves and dips.
If he was going to enjoy Mazey naked, he wanted her awake, not drunk and semi-conscious.
13
Mazey rolled over with a pained groan. Everything hurt in a way she hadn’t felt in...
Well, ever.
What the hell happened? The last thing she remembered was...
