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Chapter 37
Jenny
I hear a deep voice and some mild grumbling coming from a distance.
Shifting on the bed, I look towards the alarm clock. The neon blue numbers are bold, bright, and they nearly burn my damn eye sockets out.
9:14 a.m.
Groaning, I roll over and see Kylie sprawled over the left side of the bed. She’s in the same position she fell asleep in. I know because I watched her up until about an hour ago. I was trying to stay awake as long as possible.
One: I couldn’t sleep knowing Drake is out there somewhere and not answering his phone. And two, I was hoping to get a call from Oscar saying he found him.
The second part didn’t happen, and with each ticking minute passing by, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
The deep voices grow a little closer and then I hear the doorknob jiggle. I sit up groggily, rubbing my eyes before fixing my gaze on the door.
When it swings open, Oscar walks in and following right behind him is… Drake.
“Oh my God. Drake.” I climb off the bed and rush for him as he walks in. My arms bolt around the back of his neck and his go around my whole body to hold me close. “Where in the hell were you?” I demand over his shoulder in a whisper.
I feel him shake his head and then I lean back to study his face. He seems free of scars and scratches. He seems calm. Something tells me he never got to find Shane.
“Found him at the damn Aria,” Oscar grumbles, crossing his arms as he steps forward.
“What? Where? We looked everywhere.”
“By the pool—the only place of the hotel we didn’t bother to look because, you know, it closes at six.”
My face screws up a bit. “Why were you by the pool?”
Drake pulls away slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Needed some air.”
“Don’t worry,” Oscar sighs. “He didn’t do anything crazy. Trust me, we would have heard about it by now. A good thing happened though. This guy finally attended something on time. I found him about an hour before he had his photo shoot with the belt.”
Drake looks towards the window.
I smile. “I’m glad you found him, Oscar.”
“Yeah.” He yawns and then looks over at Kylie, slowly walking towards the bed. She’s snoring like a bear. I know she won’t be up anytime soon. Oscar kisses her on the cheek and then stands up straight. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk. Jenny, tell Kylie to call me when she wakes up. I’ll send someone to pick her up and bring her back to my hotel. She needs as much sleep as she can get.”
I nod. “Okay.” He walks to the door, but before he can go, I call after him and then grab Drake’s hand. With a warm smile, I murmur, “Thank you, Oscar.”
He looks down at our entwined fingers before meeting my eyes. “Anytime, Jenny.”
When he’s gone, I put my attention back on Drake. He looks me in the eye for a brief moment before pulling his hand away and walking to the bathroom.
“Drake?” I call. He enters the bathroom, pulling the black T-shirt over his head. “Drake, can you talk to me?”
He looks over at me before starting the shower. “I don’t feel like talking right now, Jenny.”
“Well…” My voice is hesitant. “Can you at least tell me if you are okay?”
“Of course I’m not okay,” he grumbles. “I’m far from it.”
I should have known that. He didn’t find Shane. I knew he wouldn’t, and I know he’s pissed that he couldn’t.
He looks at me, running his eyes from mine to my feet. My pajamas were dirty and during my shopping adventure with him, I didn’t think about buying more so I dug through his suitcase for something comfortable.
I’m wearing a pair of his black Nike socks and one of his white T-shirts. The shirt is big on me, clinging to my breasts and butt. I can tell he likes what he sees because his face lights up and he blinks slowly, as if he didn’t notice what I was wearing before.
Walking towards me, Drake takes my hand and brings me into the bathroom with him. He shuts the door behind us, and then squeezes my hand in his.
“Take a shower with me.” His voice is husky. I know he’s exhausted.
“Will it help you relax?”
“It will do more than that. Believe me.” He studies my face and then his hands fall into a steady slope. He grabs the hem of my T-shirt, gradually pulling it up. The cotton collects around my neck, I lift my arms, and he tugs the shirt off.
My breasts bounce when I drop my arms, and he studies them, a fire present in those green pools of his. Unbuttoning his jeans, he slides them down and then kicks off his shoes. When his socks and pants are off, he walks to the shower. There is no door, only glass blocking half of it to keep the water from spattering out.
