“I’ll get the front door,” Camden states. I don’t have to worry about opening my door because he has the code. The condo has one of those keyless entry pads on both the front and back door, and Collin helped me set them with new codes when I moved in. He made sure each of my brothers have the code, just as I have a copy of their keys or codes to their doors.
“Can you walk?” Quinn’s question is soft, his breath warm as it brushes across my cheek.
“Yep,” I insist, even if I can’t seem to open my eyes. No way am I going to allow him to carry me inside my home, despite that suddenly sounding like a very good idea.
Forcing my eyes open, I walk with as much confidence and fortitude as I can. Of course, stability is seriously lacking, and I find myself leaning into Quinn a little more than I should. That could also be the fact he smells amazing.
“I’ll grab her some water and pain pills,” Camden says as we breach the threshold.
“I’m not dead, asshole. You don’t have to talk around me.”
“Charli, I’m going to grab you some water and pain pills for your melon,” he sasses.
“Thank you,” I mutter, unable to keep sarcasm out of my voice. Sarcasm is like a second language to me. I speak it fluently and often.
Quinn turns to close the door, and I gently push off him. “I’m good,” I insist, walking to my bedroom, dropping my wristlet on the floor along the way.
That’s not the only thing I remove either. I kick off my shoes, leaving them in the short hallway as I stumble toward my bed. I don’t even care about my nightly bedtime routine. All I want is my bed and about eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
My first client isn’t until ten, which gives me plenty of time to get up, grab some coffee, and get to the salon where my studio is located. I fall onto my bed, not bothering to remove any of my clothes.
“Here, take this.”
I groan but do as instructed. I know Camden is right, and I need to take something for my head and drink more water, or tomorrow is going to be painful. Once I suck down the pill and half the glass of water, I hand back the glass and ask, “Happy?”
“Yes,” he states with a smile, placing the glass on my bedside table. “Take this one when you get up in the morning.”
“Yes, Mommy,” I mutter, sliding my body beneath the comforter. My sheets are cool and feel amazing, but it still feels like a million degrees.
Tossing off the comforter, I pull my shirt off my head and throw it.
“What the fuck?” Camden barks out.
“I’m hot.”
“Stop stripping,” he demands when I reach for the button on my jeans.
“Get out of my bedroom,” I retort, shimmying out of the denim while still lying on the mattress.
“Jesus, Charli,” Camden mutters, rubbing his head and shielding his eyes. “I’m going to refill her water,” he adds, clearly talking to Quinn as he snatches up the half-full glass and exits the room.
I glance over and see Quinn looking down. Or at least I think he’s looking down, but to be honest, he might very well be sneaking a peek. Usually, I’d insist he get the fuck out of the room too, but for some reason completely out of my control, that’s not what I do. For the first time in my life, the thought of his eyes being on me sends a thrill through my veins.
No, Charli. You donotwant Quinn to watch you strip.
The alcohol is clearly affecting my brain.
When I get my jeans off, I toss them on the floor and climb back under the comforter. “Much better.”
“Do you need anything before we go?” Quinn asks, still standing across the room. His posture is rigid, like it was earlier. I can tell something’s wrong.
“What’d you do to your back?” I ask.
He doesn’t reply for a few seconds but eventually looks up and meets my gaze. “Just sore from being bent over all day. I’ll be fine.”
“You should get a massage,” I blurt out.
He cracks a smile, his dark eyes shining with something I can’t dissect. “You told me you’d never touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
