Kissing the moisture from her neck and chin, I worked my way up to her lips as my arms trembled with exertion and fire raced down my back. As much as I didn’t want to, I needed to move. To stretch. To make sure I could still fucking walk. Rolling off her, I stood to toss the condom in the trash, and was immediately brought to my knees. Bile rose in the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down, trying not to gag.
“Hound?”
Her concern stabbed at me. She was perfection, and I was broken beyond repair. Refusing to let her see me so weak and useless, I forced myself to stand, toss the condom, and grab my jeans. Fireworks exploded behind my eyes as I sat on the bed and put them on.
“Hound?” Mila asked again. Getting to her knees, she crawled over. “What can I do to help?”
“I just gotta lay down for a while.” My shoes and shirt were across the room. They might as well have been in China. Leaving them behind, I stood and hobbled to the door.
Mila was right behind me, reaching for her robe. “I can help.”
“No.” I didn’t want her to see me like this. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
Closing her door behind me, I leaned against the wall, using it to help me as I made my way to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain god again.
16
Mila
ISTARED AFTER Hound, wondering what to do. Usually I was the one who left after sex, so it was a bit unsettling to be on this side of the transaction, watching him walk out the door.
It stung like rejection.
But Hound hadn’t rejected me. He’d taken care of me when I was drunk, then he gave me two amazing orgasms without regard for the price such physical activity would demand from his body. He was a giver, and I’d taken everything he had to offer, leaving him spent and in the kind of crippling pain that barely allowed him to walk out my door.
“Sometimes an adult is the loneliest thing you can be.”
It was plain to see Hound’s words had come from experience. Like me, he was a loner, condemned to shoulder his suffering on his own. I understood his struggle, knew he needed me, yet I’d let him leave to seek solitude. He’d been an incredible friend to me, and in return, I’d used him up and left him to his own devices.
Throwing on my bathrobe, I flung open my door and searched the hallway, but Hound was nowhere in sight. He’d always come to me, so I had no idea which room was his, and wasn’t about to go door knocking. After last night’s party, most of the club was probably hungover, and I wouldn’t make any friends by waking them up.
Frustrated, and disgusted with myself for being too self-absorbed to ask Hound for something as simple as his fucking room number, I closed and locked my door, ditched my robe, and climbed back into bed. It was still early, and I had no reason to be out of bed.
I don’t know where he is. There’s nothing I can do.
The self-reassurance did little to absolve me because I knew the truth. There was alwayssomethingI could do. Grumbling about my own resourcefulness, I grabbed my cell and shot Hound a text asking for his room number.
Minutes ticked by with no response.
Guilt gnawed at me as I stared up at the ceiling, wishing I had followed him when he left. Or insisted he stay.
What if he really hurt himself?
What if he can’t move?
What if he needs help?
Worry tied knots in my stomach until I couldn’t take it anymore. Knowing I would probably regret the decision, I texted Levi, asking for Hound’s room number.
My phone rang almost immediately. Staring at the screen, I cursed my cousin’s name for not just texting me back like a normal person. I thought about letting the call go to voicemail, but the idea of him showing up at my door made me answer.
“Why do you want Hound’s number?” Levi asked.
“Good morning, cousin. Happy Saturday. How are you this fine day?” I shot back with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
“Oh, so small talk’s your thing now?”
“No, but manners sure as hell are.”
