He thumbs over his shoulder. “I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”
“Okay. Thank you for taking care of me.”
“You’re important to me,” he says softly. “I care about you.”
But only as a friend.
His smile is small and empathetic. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“’Night.”
He pulls the door closed.
I’m suddenly beyond exhausted.
The sheets are already pulled back, so I climb into bed, turn off the lamp, close my eyes, and wish everything could go back to the way it was a week ago, before my life went up in flames.
I wake up sweaty,wrapped in a giant plush robe. I wriggle out of it and the cool air hits my damp skin, causing a full-body shiver. I smell awful, and I’m hungover as hell. My bladder is screaming just as loudly as my head.What happened last night?
My showcase went amazing.
But my parents said they were getting divorced.
I called Hammer.
We went to the Watering Hole.
And then what…?
This bed isn’t mine. Panic hits, pushing adrenaline through my veins as I throw off the covers, then groan at the sharp pain slicing through my skull. I’m a mess. I shuffle a couple of steps and nearly trip over my own feet. Then I kick something solid.
A grunt comes from below me as I trip over the lump and hurtle toward the floor. My face doesn’t connect with the ground, though. Instead, it mashes against something soft-ish.
“Oh my fuck!” the human groans.
Flip.
Memories of last night pop like bubbles in my brain.
Flip brought me back to his place. He took care of me.
And the tube-shaped thing my cheek is pressed up against is hisdick.
In all my wildest dreams, this isnothow I envisioned my first experience with Flip’s junk.
CHAPTER 7
TALLY
“I’m really sorry.” I can’t stop apologizing.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a black eye before.” Flip’s focus stays firmly on the road, hands at ten and two. “And it’s not like it was on purpose.”
I wish I could evaporate. I’m currently wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of leggings that belong to Rix and were accidentally left at his place. Sadly, neither function as armor against my unappealing smell or my embarrassment.
Apparently, Flip was worried about my safety during the night, and the possibility that I might asphyxiate on my own vomit, so he slept on the floor on a yoga mat. I kicked him in the eye when I tripped over him and bagged him with my face. When he flicked on the light, I discovered my dress had ridden up to my waist and my whole ass was on display, including my pink lip-print thong. I will never recover from this humiliation. When I get home, I plan to have a good cry into a pint of ice cream.
“I’m sorry about your parents, and I’m sorry last night was so hard for you,” Flip says gently. “But black eye or no black eye, I’m not sorry I took care of you.”
