Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,32

we both stiffen. Shit.

“Yes,” Jack says rather noncommittally.

“Where are you? Is Arlo with you?”

“At the hotel. Erm, I didn’t feel too good, so Arlo came back with me.”

“You sound hoarse. Are you getting a cold?” Tom asks.

I snort softly. Jack pinches me, laughter clear in his eyes.

I make a move to roll off the bed, but he stays me and stands up to pull the covers back. I stare at him. Is he asking me to sleep with him? He gestures at the bed. Obviously, he is.

I climb in, sighing silently as he climbs in next to me and pulls the covers over us. The sheets smell of him and faintly of spunk, and I inhale deeply, feeling the room spin gently around me. His body is warm against mine and his speech slurs on every second word. My brother’s voice fades dreamlike into the background.

Finally, Jack ends the call and throws the phone rather cavalierly off the side of the bed. He looks down at me and it’s a sign of how far gone I am over him that the fact that his eyes are slightly crossed makes him even more attractive.

“Well, that’s that done, then,” he says. He’s being rather dramatic for such a placid person. My mouth twitches and I reach up and grab his face between my palms. “Umpf,” he says as I squeeze his cheeks together so he looks like a fish.

“Who said we’re done?” I say very deliberately.

His eyes flare as hot as the sun. “Really?”

I nod. “Plenty more hours to go in this night.”

I’m surprised when Jack looks confused and a little freaked out. “Are we role-playing now?” he whispers.

I try to think, but my brain is fried from all the shots. “Why? Is that something you want to do?” I ask hesitantly.

“I’m not sure I can but I’m game to give it a try,” he says valiantly. “If you want a knight, then I’m the man for you,” he slurs.

I realise the mistake and start to laugh. “No. I meant ‘night-time’, as in, there’s plenty more hours of night-time for us to get into trouble. Not knight time with swords and armour.”

Relief crosses his face. “Phew,” he says. “That could have been sticky. I’m not a very good actor.”

I wriggle against him. “We’re already sticky. Let’s get more so.”

His response is more physical than verbal, but I’m certainly not complaining.

Eight

Arlo

I come awake slowly to a sense of impending pain and torture. “Oh God,” I say faintly. “Lord, please take me now.”

There’s a chuckle, followed immediately by a deep groan. “Shit,” Jack says. “I feel fucking terrible.”

I become aware that I’m very warm. I try to open my eyes, but they don’t work properly, and I abandon the attempts and send out my hand. When it connects with warm, sleek skin, I realise that I’m lying wrapped around a big body with my head on a lovely hairy chest. My eyes fly open, and I stare at Jack.

“Ouch,” I say as the light in the room sears my retinas.

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m trying not to move, or I’ll vomit.”

“You sweet talker, you,” I say faintly. He’s lying on his back to accommodate the fact that I’m sprawled over him. He’s sporting stubble, and his eyes are red-rimmed and bleary. Just what all the best-dressed men about town are wearing at the moment. “What the hell happened to us?” I whisper.

“You,” he says. “You happened to us, Arlo. Feel bad. Feel very bad.”

I cast a cautious eye around the room and gape. Clothes are lying everywhere. The Bluetooth speaker on the cupboard is loudly playing “Futuristic Intrigue” by Laetitia Frenod. Even as I listen, the song stops and begins again. The table lamp lies on its side on the floor, its shade discarded and the naked bulb casting a circle of light on the carpet that illuminates the multitude of glasses and bottles strewn everywhere.

“What the fuck?” I breathe. “Did we entertain Guns n Roses last night?”

He chuckles and then groans pitifully. “No, we didn’t need to do that, Arlo. We were living far too wildly for their tame arses.”

I bite my lip, looking at the underpants that are hanging off the ceiling light fitting. They look like mine. “I have a vague memory of dancing to Jason Derulo until Reception rang to complain.”

“Oh God,” he says faintly. “That was probably after the cocktails.”

“I’m drawing a blank on that one. What cocktails?”

“The cocktails that you decided to mix up at four in the