Stepping out of the bathroom, I closed the door and gave her privacy. Someone was coming up the stairs. I watched as Frog rounded the corner with a sexy brunette on his arm. Swaying, Kim bumped into Frog and laughed, grabbing him around the middle. She didn’t look like she was much better off than Mila. Then again, neither did Frog. The two made their way toward me, looking like they could tumble over at any minute. I was hoping they’d pass by without saying anything, but Frog halted, pulling Kim to a stop beside him.
“Hey, Hound, how ya doin’?” The road captain had earned his road name from his service as a Navy frogman. He was older, probably in his mid-forties, and it was rumored he’d experienced some sort of incident in the service that affected his long-term memory. I hadn’t spoken to him much, but he seemed like a cool guy.
“I’m doin’ good. How are you?”
“Great.” He grinned at Kim and she returned the gesture, pressing herself against him. She whispered something in his ear that caused his eyes to light up. “Have a good night, Hound. I know I will.”
With that, the two continued on down the hall, talking and laughing.
Just when I was beginning to wonder if I should check on her, Mila called for me. I pushed open the bathroom door to find her halfway between the toilet and sink. She was bent over, bare ass in the air, hands on the floor, pants and black lace panties around her ankles. If temptation had a greeting card, this would be the cover photo.
“Jesus,” I swore before I could stop myself.
She gave me a lopsided grin. “I seem to be having complications with my mobility.”
“You don’t say.” I did my best not to stare at her perfect heart-shaped ass and toned thighs, but I was only human. “Need some help?”
“Please.”
I righted her. It went against the laws of nature, helping her get her clothes back on instead of taking them off, but I’d kick my own ass before even thinking of trying anything. Once her panties and pants were pulled back up, I scooted her over to the sink. She washed her hands, and then thanked me for my service by placing her still wet hands in the center of my chest and staring at me like I’d just rescued her from a burning building instead of a drunken double over.
“Youdohave really nice eyes,” she whispered. Her gaze dropped to my lips. “And lips. I like your lips.”
I had no idea why she was whispering but went along with it. “Thank you.” I wanted to tell her how gorgeous she was, but didn’t want to escalate an already sticky situation. Mila licked her lips and I knew I was in trouble. I wouldn’t take advantage of her while she was drunk, but I had a feeling she was going to make abstaining very hard on me.
Literally. My cock was painfully erect. I turned away and adjusted myself.
“Will you bring me my cup?” Mila asked.
I hurried down the hall and retrieved the red solo cup she’d been shooting tequila from. Knocking on the bathroom door, I verified she was still alone before entering. As Mila filled the cup with water and drank, little streams flowed down her chin to soak the front of her shirt.
Great.
She was already testing the shit out of my self-control. The sight of her in a wet shirt was cruel and usual punishment.
Pulling the cup away, she looked down at herself and laughed at the mess. “There appears to be a hole in my lip.”
“Two holes, I think.” I was trying like hell not to look at her tits, but they were right there. She was wearing a bra—I could make out the outline of it—but it didn’t stop her pert nipples from pebbling against the wet fabric, making it impossible to look anywhere else.
Seemingly oblivious to my struggle, she refilled the cup and drained it two more times before asking me to help her to bed. The second I pulled her against me, she became an octopus, reaching, touching, groping. Doing my best to intercept her hands, I cursed my existence as I led her from the bathroom and back down the hall.
“It’s weird that I’m letting you help me like this,” she observed as we reached her door. Her fingers slid up under my T-shirt to flatten against my bare stomach. “I normally don’t get drunk. It makes me feel too vul-ner-a… vul-nera…”
God, the soft skin of her hand felt good on my skin. Too good. I sucked in a breath and reluctantly removed it. “Vulnerable?” I provided.
“Yes! But I trust you. Well… mostly. You take care of me and bring me food. Dinner was good, by the way. Thank you.” She pulled away from me and took a few tentative steps on her own.
“You’re welcome.” I stayed close in case she needed me again.
“Did you cook?”
“No. I was working with you, remember?”
She laughed, sounding a little like a cracked-out hyena. Her obnoxious laugh probably shouldn’t have been a turn on, but it was. I liked seeing this side of her: no walls, no barriers, completely honest. If only she could be this real with me all the time. Well, without the tipped over wardrobe malfunctions and random topic changes.
“Oh yeah. That’s right. You’re a real gentleman, Hound.” She spun around to face me, and almost lost her balance. I reached out to help her, but she found her footing and waved me off.
Holding my gaze, she undid the back latch of her bra and pulled it through the sleeve of her shirt. Her breasts settled into their natural position, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to stare at them. Not to touch them. Not to taste them. Not to drool all over them. I didn’t feel much like a gentleman. The things I wanted to do to her would have given Hugh Heffner new writing material.
