Deadly Coincidence (Brantley Walker Off the Books #4) - Nicole Edwards Page 0,51
Baz kept his eyes closed, allowed the sensations to mingle with the whiskey, numbing him once again. All thoughts of where he was, what he was doing, and whether or not he would have regrets come morning slipped away. As did his clothes, hers.
And a short time later, after she rode him like a wild stallion, Baz lay in the darkened room, let her cover him like a blanket while self-loathing tried to seep through the lingering effects of the whiskey.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he drifted off.
Or maybe a better way to describe it was passed out.
The next thing he knew, Baz was rolling over, opening his eyes, trying to acclimate to where he was, why he was there.
He exhaled heavily, before closing his eyes with a groan as it all came back to him. The bar, the whiskey, the blonde with the soft, curvy body and all her purple twinkly shit.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
The cheerful voice had him wrenching open an eye, peering up at her.
Nope. It wasn’t a dream. There was the blond woman from the bar, smiling down at him like she was happy to see him.
Oh, hell. Had he…? Had they…?
“Feeling better?” she asked with a giggle.
“I don’t know,” he admitted truthfully, trying to ignore the unease tightening his gut. “Am I?”
He forced his head to clear so he could recall the rest of the events of last night.
Going to HQ. Talking to JJ. The diner. Moonshiners. Beer.
Definitely didn’t explain the blinding pain behind his eyes.
Oh, right. He’d only started off drinking beer last night. That had quickly turned to whiskey. One Jack and Coke, then another. After that, those morphed into half a dozen shots until he’d had enough to make driving impossible. But since he was here with Blondie in what he assumed was her apartment, apparently that hadn’t been an issue.
“You passed out on me, you silly boy.”
Silly boy? What was she, twelve?
Jesus Christ, please don’t let her be under eighteen. She couldn’t be. She’d been drinking last night.
He exhaled his relief.
“And to think, I got all dressed up for you and you didn’t even take time undressing me again.” Another giggle. “You just whooshed it all off me like a starving man.”
There were flashes of memory, her, him, the couch. Her lying on him, rolling on a condom, riding him like he was a contender in the Kentucky Derby.
God, he’d lasted, what? All of three minutes, maybe? The whiskey had certainly affected his ability to perform.
Not that you’d know it by the enormous smile on her face.
Hating himself, he let his gaze run down her form from head to toe. She wasn’t dressed up for him now.
“I got dressed, silly goose,” she said, swatting his shoulder and giggling as though he’d told a joke.
Oh, shit. He’d said that last part aloud.
He forced another smile then grimaced because even that hurt.
“Didn’t want to tempt you too much,” she continued. “I’m meeting some friends this morning for brunch. We’re kicking off the new year right. Thought maybe you’d like to go with me.”
Baz winced. He wasn’t sure if it was from the thought of food or the thought of spending more time with this woman when all he wanted to do was jump in the shower so he could get clean.
“It’ll be fun,” Blondie added, clearly not picking up on his discomfort. “I can introduce you to everyone. And when we’re finished, we can come back here and pick up where we left off. Without the alcohol this time.”
Where they left off? They’d had sex. Once. Which was one time more than he’d intended.
His gaze shifted over to Blondie, who was whistling while she tucked things into her purse.
Pathetic. That was what he was. Absolutely fucking pathetic.
Sitting up, he dropped his head in his hands. Surprisingly, the hangover wasn’t as bad as he expected. Sure, his head hurt, but it was only a dull throb as long as his eyes were closed.
His gaze snagged on the glass of water and bottle of aspirin sitting on the small glass coffee table, right beside a basket of purple flowers.
He didn’t hesitate, snatching the bottle, pouring out a couple of pills, then downing them with the water.
“So? Would you like to go with me?” Blondie crooned happily.
“Sorry,” he muttered, setting the glass down and reaching for his phone. “Can’t.” He forced himself to look up at her. “How did I get here?”
“I drove you.” She smiled brightly. “Your friends took your truck.”