“Talk to me,” I say softly. I want to know how much Molly she took and when. How much booze she drank. I want to know if Wes touched her. I want to know why my heart is all over the fucking place and my cock is growing in my jeans. I want to take away her demons, but I know I’m partly to blame for her state of mind. Guilt jumps up and bites me, and I’m so fucking conflicted.
I think of calling Zach, but he’ll only enable her more.
Emily buries her face in my chest. “You feel nice,” she says rubbing her hands up and down my sides. “And you smell nice,” she adds, inhaling deeply.
Oh, man. If she was sober, and I believed she was telling the truth, she’d be under me with my mouth molded to hers right now.
But she’s not, and I don’t.
You feel like somewhere over that rainbow where I imagine it’s a blissful place devoid of drugs, and parties, and sickness.
She starts running her fingers across my abs, and my stomach is doing cartwheels. Meanwhile, my cock is painfully hard, and straining noticeably against the zipper of my jeans. When her hand lands on my belt, I suck in a sharp breath.
She lifts her head, and her eyes are dilated as she searches my face.
The need to kiss her, to touch her, is so fucking strong, but I’m not one of those guys who takes advantage of a girl when she’s down.
I kiss her on the forehead as I remove her hand to her side. “Rest, babe. You need to sleep.” I’m not letting her leave until she’s more coherent. I can’t let anyone see her leaving either.
It’s not because I don’t want her to leave.
Or because I want to hold her in my arms and take care of her.
The best thing is for her to stay put I convince myself. But fuck it. I’m working tonight, and Ray will hunt me down if I don’t show.
Emily sighs one last time as her body deflates against mine.
Sam returns with a washcloth, handing it to me. “She’s going to be okay, right?”
I have no fucking idea. But I’m going to make it my mission to ensure she is.
Emily starts to breath deeply.
“She’s sleeping,” Sam confirms, sinking into his desk chair, his blue eyes appraising.
Silence fills the room.
I could stay like this all night, but I need to make a phone call. Carefully, I lift her off me, setting her down flat on the bed and adjusting her head so it’s on my pillow, before covering her with a light sheet. A sheen of sweat still clings to her brow, and she’s hot to the touch, so I don’t want to tuck her under the covers even if my nurturing instinct is screaming at me to do just that.
I climb off the bed, and Emily lets out a soft mewl.
“She can’t stay,” Sam murmurs. “Her mother runs this campus.” Panic is evident on Sam’s face.
I pace the room. He’s right. But until the entire building is sound asleep and Emily is in a better state of mind, she isn’t leaving.
“She came here thinking a guy by the name of Wrangler lived in this room.” Sam leans his elbow on his knees. “Something about needing to buy Molly from the guy.”
I shut my eyes briefly, staving off the nausea in my stomach. I can’t tell Sam. He’d be so disappointed to know Wrangler is me. That I’m the one who did this to Emily.
“I need to make a call.” I start for the door. Fresh outside air is necessary to quench the burn from the acid in my throat.
Sam pops up. “Wait. You can’t leave.” His voice is low.
“I’m not, man. I’ll be back in five minutes. I don’t want to wake her.”
I want to crawl into bed with her. I want to fuck her until the sun comes up, but I mentally slap myself out of my lustful thoughts, because she needs something different from me tonight.
Sam meets me at the door. “I need to tell you something. Emily came to me last week and asked for my help.”
