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My body, still aching with unmet need, had other things to say, though.
CHAPTER TEN
Cary
Fucking Dezi.
I normally looked at his antics with the resigned acceptance of an older brother with an irresponsible younger one who constantly needed to be watched.
Normally, I was happy enough to put up with his shit.
Just this once, though, I wanted to grab him by the back of the cut, haul him up, and toss him out into the hall.
I even considered calling some of the guys at the club to come get him. But the fact of the matter was, the moment was gone.
And, for fuck’s sake, the moment never should have happened in the first place.
The woman had just woken up from a nightmare so terrible that she’d struggled to separate it from reality for a long moment, a nightmare where I suspected she was being assaulted in some form or another by her ex.
The last fucking thing she needed at that moment was for me to take advantage of her vulnerability.
Sure, yes, she’d made the first move. But that was likely just in response to being offered some kindness after reliving some of her trauma.
I shouldn’t have closed the distance when she’d paused.
“Fuck,” I hissed, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
It had been a sleepless night, to say the least. And I’d been dealing with a raging hard-on for a fair chunk of it.
Abigail had tossed and turned as well for a long time. And I tried to convince myself it had nothing to do with the unmet need I’d stoked in her.
Eventually, even she managed to pass out.
And Dezi, well, he slept like the fucking dead. The bastard.
Someday in the future, I was going to find the exact right moment, and cockblock his ass in revenge.
Even if, logically, I knew him showing up when he did—before things got too out of hand—was probably the best possible thing to happen.
With a sigh, I quickly brushed my teeth then moved back into the room, finding Abigail slow-blinking out the window as she woke up.
“Too bright?” I asked, regretting opening the blinds so early. “I was opening them to torture Dezi when he gets up,” I told her, getting a smirk out of Abs as she looked down at him.
“I don’t think he moved an inch all night.”
“Dezi is a pretty heavy drinker when he goes out. So him getting that shit-faced is rare,” I told her. “I hope those women got home okay,” I added, suddenly worried about them. I mean, if Dezi was that wasted, I couldn’t imagine what those women were like.
“Party bus,” Dezi mumbled, making me look down at him.
“Is he talking in his sleep?” Abigail asked.
“Nah, pretty lady,” Dezi said, his eyes slitting open to look at Abigail. “Those ladies had a party bus. Someone’s brother was hanging around like a chaperone. I wouldn’t have left ‘em if it wasn’t safe,” he added, pulling up to lean back against my bed as he reached inside his crushed box for a powdered donut, looking at its smushed appearance for a second before shrugging and taking a big bite.
“You’re not hungover?” Abigail asked, shaking her head at him as she sat up in bed.
“Me? Not since I was thirteen,” Dezi said, winking at her.
“You’ve been drinking since you were thirteen?” Abs asked, eyes widening.
“Only a couple times a week. So, a place this fancy has to have a breakfast spread, right?” Dezi asked, shoving the rest of the donut into his mouth, then jumping to his feet.
“Yes,” I confirmed, shaking my head at him as he reached for another stale donut.
“I’m gonna hit it before I get back to the clubhouse. You guys want anything?” he asked, pointing between us a couple of times, fully energized and ready to go, despite the crazy night he’d just had.
Oh, to be young with the liquor tolerance of a fucking troll.
“I’m not even awake yet,” Abigail said, shaking her head.
“We will grab something on our way out,” I told him.
“Alright. Suit yourselves,” Dezi said, making his way toward the door. “I hope they have those little boxes of cereal,” he said, mostly to himself, as he made his way out.
“How does he get up and moving so fast?” Abigail asked, sighing hard as she put her feet on the floor. “I didn’t even drink last night and my head isn’t even working properly yet.”
“Dezi’s an enigma,” I said, shrugging. “What time do you want to head over to the apartment today?”
At that, her eyes brightened.
“Like five minutes ago,” she declared, hopping up, and rushing over toward the closet to grab an outfit. “Give me ten minutes,” she added, going over to the bathroom.
“Take your time. We have all day,” I reminded her as I reached for my phone to text the landlord.
Those words fell on deaf ears, though, because Abigail rushed through getting dressed so fast that she stumbled twice and dropped a bunch of shit off the counter and onto the floor in her haste.
