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She was drunk out of her goddamn mind, too. If I ever went for it with Piper, I’d want her to remember everything. I’d want her to remember every single thing, from start to finish. A whole bottle of vodka had almost guaranteed that she wouldn’t. She would wake up in the morning, wondering why I was still in her apartment. Why I was lying naked next to her.
And why I had taken advantage of her.
That would have to be my biggest problem. Explaining why I had been an asshole and unable to keep my dick in my pants. Excuses like “you were too hot to resist” wouldn’t work. Piper wasn’t one of the bimbos I’d been picking up in bars. She had brains in that pretty head of hers. If I told her anything about her looks, I’d get a slap in the face.
So, I raised her arm up to my shoulder and looked away. To me, this was the only way to keep the guy downstairs from complaining about the prison of my pants.
“Put your weight on me,” I told her in a stiff tone.
“Fine,” she chuckled. “Will you undress me when we get to my bedroom?”
“It ain’t happening, Piper,” I said, keeping the same tone. “You might as well face it.”
“Mean, mean, mean,” she chided, stomping her foot into the floor once.
I kept my mouth shut, knowing that this wasn’t leading us anywhere. She would just go on and complain some more. Hell, I didn’t want to hear any more of that. Also, she could have called me any name she liked. It still wouldn’t change my mind about how the rest of the night would play out. She would get some sleep and I would stay near her, just in case. She’d had too much to drink, and I didn’t want to take any chances.
26
PIPER
A funny feelingin my stomach put an end to my nice little slumber.
I twisted around in my bed, my body not liking the idea of leaving its comfort. Sadly, a throbbing sensation in my head made it impossible for me to snuggle just for a few more minutes.
I had to get up and take care of that headache.
My nostrils picking up a lovely scent, my eyes were pried open.
The view of a spoonful of soup took me by complete surprise. The identity of the person holding that spoonful up in the air was… unexpected.
No. Scratch that.
He had to be the last person in the world I thought capable of doing that. A knock-around guy, decked out in leather, swearing a little too much? Someone had to have been playing a practical joke on me.
“Hey. Look who’s up,” he said, his voice low. “How’re you feeling?”
“Leo?” I stammered. “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d have left by now.”
“So, you remember I was here last night,” he said with a small smile gracing his face. “That’s good. It means you didn’t get so shitfaced. Anyway, I stayed put because there was a chance you’d need help during the night.”
“I got what?” I asked, somewhat annoyed by the language he’d used.
He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. “Call it whatever the fuck you like. Where I come from, gulping down a bottle of vodka all by yourself means getting shitfaced. It just didn’t affect you so much, and that’s a good thing. Now, eat up.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I claimed, smiling in embarrassment.
“So what?” he argued, bringing the spoon even closer to my mouth. “The soup’s going to calm down your stomach. It works for most people I know, so, eat up.”
What a pushy bastard.
He wasn’t going to let me off the hook.
Still, despite his persistence, I had to admit there was more to him.
Leo had been sweet to me.
Not just once, but twice in a matter of hours.
