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She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down on top of her. I feel the way she arches her hips up and meets me. The moment her lips touched mine, I was no longer in control, but I know I need to stop it.
Reluctantly, I release my lips from hers and push myself up. “Enough walk for you?” I ask, needing to reestablish the boundaries.
Her face goes pale, and before I can ask her what’s wrong, she pulls the covers off and stumbles to the bathroom. A moment later, I hear her emptying her stomach.
“Viola!” I rush to her, finding her kneeling over the toilet, groaning. “Jesus.” I grab her hair in my fist and pull it back. I wait until she finishes and sits back, looking defeated.
“I’m going to try not to take that personally,” I say with a chuckle.
She narrows her eyes and glares up at me. “Hilarious, asshole.”
I stand and grab the towel off the counter for her.
“I’m never drinking again.”
“That’s what they all say.”
She shoots me another look.
“C’mon.” I hold my hand out. “Back to bed.”
She stares at me a moment before giving in and taking my hand. My eyes roam down her body, and she notices.
“Really? You’re going to ogle me after I just vomited in front of you?” Her stare is harsh—the Voila I know is coming back to surface.
I brush my free hand over my chin and flash a sly smirk. “Actually, I was contemplating on telling you that you had a little…something on your chest, but never mind, I’ll just let you sleep in vomit.”
She releases my hand and turns to look in the mirror above the sink. She grabs the towel and wipes it off, keeping her eyes locked on mine through the mirror.
“You should get some sleep,” I say. “And drink some water before you get dehydrated.”
She turns on the faucet and splashes some water on her face before glaring at me in the mirror. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
I want to say something about how she nearly left with some random guy at the bar and how she was barely conscious on the way home, but I bite my tongue and stare at her in rage before walking back out of the bathroom and heading back to my sheetless bed.
After grabbing an extra blanket from the closet and passing out, I wake up sometime around four a.m. to more noise coming from the bathroom.
Shit, Viola.
She’s hunched over the toilet again, her hair wild and sticking to her face and neck.
“Fucking hell, V.” I step behind her, controlling her hair and rubbing a hand over her back. “When did you come back in here?”
“I never left.”
A deep growl escapes me at the thought of her damn stubbornness getting in the way of letting me help her back to bed. “You’re going to get dehydrated. I’m getting you some water.”
“No,” she barely croaks out. “Don’t leave me.” She lays her head down on the seat, her face as white as a ghost.
“I’ll be right back. Promise.” I grab her a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and hand her one as soon as I return. “Drink this.”
She shakes her head.
“Viola,” I say, harsher. “I said drink it.”
She takes it from me and begins drinking. “I feel like death.”
“Yeah, well that’s what happens when you drink and take shots all night.” I wrap a hand around my shoulder, squeezing my neck. “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”
