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I still wasn’t following, but I couldn’t get the ‘girl likes you’ out of my head.
She came with him. She came here with him.
“Unlike some people, I don’t take advantage of unwilling women,” I said instead, holding the key card back to him.
“I did no such thing.” He pushed my hand back at me and, cocky grin on his face, said, “Puck’s in your zone, man.”
***
I wasn’t sure why the hell Jason put her in a hotel room if I was supposed to be taking her home. Did she know that? Did she know she was stuck driving home with me?
And how the hell didn’t I know she lived so close to me?
I should have fought Jason harder. I couldn’t be the guy to drive her home.
Still though, I found myself in her room.
Where she was sleeping.
I should shake her awake. Tell her I was taking her home.
But I didn’t. Like a psychopath, I watched her sleep, from an arm chair across from the bed, for what had to be two hours.
Adrenaline had kept me awake, but slowly, my eyes started to grow heavy. Just as my lids fell closed, a soft sigh from the bed pulled me back to attention. My eyes landed quickly on the body completely covered, head to toe, in a mass of sheets and blankets.
Leave. Leave this room, pretend it never happened. Put the keycard down. Jason was fucking crazy to give it to you. Tell him to give her a ride home.
I slouched in the seat.
She’s going to wake up. You’re going to scare her. Leave the room.
She came to this party with Jason. She came up here, with Jason.
Jason was back in the ballroom before anything could have happened. There was no fucking way they did anything other than him putting her to bed.
Ryleigh shifted, her legs kicking down the blankets so her upper body was exposed. She lay on her stomach, and was still in her dress, the top of which twisted in a way that the gentle swell of her breast was fighting to be freed from the side. My cock twitched under my slacks.
Fuck.
You need to have a talk with Jason. See what his endgame is. Yeah. Do that. Right now. Stand up. Leave the room. Before…
Ryleigh sighed again, but this time, it almost sounded to be in pain.
Yeah. I’m sure her head is killing her.
She rolled to her back then and—I was a bastard—I kept my eyes on the top of her dress where it tugged and pulled, her breast nearly spilling out for sure now.
I couldn’t stay here and not say anything. I cleared my throat, before leaning forward, bracing my forearms on my knees, waiting for her to say something, do something.
She didn’t.
“Ryleigh,” I said, her name on my tongue, directed toward her, doing funny things to me. I tried to focus on that and not the fact that, after calling her name, her body stiffened—and not in the same way mine had.
I was at war with myself. This was wrong. I shouldn’t be here. She hadn’t given me permission to be here. If she had wanted me here, she’d have come to me during the party, before she’d gotten plastered. She didn’t know me. I didn’t know her.
I’m fucking certifiable.
Ryleigh sat up then, pulling the covers up to her chin as she stared at me across the room, in the semi-dark. She looked…
