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“The only drink you’re getting is water.”
“You no fun.” She pirouetted and lunged for me. “Take me home, Tombatus!” Her hands roamed over my chest as I caught her and she gained her balance. “You’ve got lots of muscles, Tom,” she purred. “More than last time.”
Rosie was sure handsy when drunk. I didn’t want to be the rebound guy. I didn’t want her coming on to me just to scratch an itch.You’re not even meant to like her, Tom.
I didn’t like her. Period. I was acting as Mr Nice Guy.
Would I want to help her scratch an itch if she was sober?
I growled, my chest vibrating. Rosie blinked.
I was turned on just at the thought.
“You need to go home,” I ground out while retrieving my mobile from my back pocket.
I opened up a text to Anthea and recalled the photo Pete had sent me of someone’s hand on Rosie’s butt. White-hot rage hit me squarely in the chest at the idea of anyone touching her.
I had no right to feel this.
And yet my body wanted her. I was a hypocritical, hot mess of a Neanderthal-type of arsehole tonight.
My dick thickened at the sudden thought of her boudoir photos in the bag at my side.Down, boy. Sleeping with Rosie will never be an option.This ‘be nice to Rosie as revenge’ plan was just self-flagellation. I was only torturing myself.
I held Rosie away. “You need to sober up and sleep this off. Here’s some water before we go home.”
It took ten minutes to steer her to the bar and buy another bottle of water. Rosie hooted and hollered the whole time, trying to get me to dance, claiming every song on the pub’s sound system was her favourite. John the owner shot me a sympathetic look and gave me a bottle of water at no charge. “Good luck.”
Rosie yelled back over the bar. “I am going to get lucky!”
When we finally reached the car, Rosie stopped abruptly and pouted. “You used to be fun.”
“You used to be able to hold your liquor,” I retorted, finding my keys.
“I’m not that drunk.” I opened the passenger door of the ute and Rosie stumbled in. “That was my shoe. Stupid shoe.”
“You’re in flats, Rosie,” I said dryly, helping her lift her legs into the footwell. “Here, drink this now.” I opened a bottle of water and handed it to her.
She drank several gulps. “I didn’t drink at the awards night. It wasn’t me who publicly outed how he slept with students and other staff.”
“I saw the video today. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Rosie blinked, swaying in her seat. “Then you know Richard was fucking his way through the faculty. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. He was an arsehole.”
Rosie kept going, not seeming to register I’d spoken.
“Richard called tonight and asked me to deny it all. When I said no, he said I was a lousy lay. And then texted that I was bad in bed.”
Her face fell, and she drank more water. “So I had a few drinks and wanted to prove him wrong.”
Richard was more than a jerk. He was blind, even evil, and didn’t deserve her.
I had to claw my fingers away from the car door.
Rosie groaned as she swallowed the last of the water. “Damn, I needed that.”
Her lips glistened around the plastic bottle’s lip, and some drops fell onto her skin, missing the collar of her work shirt.
