“Now Ilovewhere this is heading,” he slurred, reaching back for her. The motion set him off-balance and he smacked his hand back to the footboard to steady himself. “Though maybe we should wait until another night. I’m not sure I’m capable of giving you my best performance right now.”
She stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso to undo the buttons, then lifted each hand as she stripped the sleeves down and peeled off his shirt. His muscled back was no less tempting than his front.
She scolded herself. Her poor friend was clearly struggling, and here she was ogling him.
She trailed her hands down to his waistband and he thrust his hips forward.
“Fuck,yeah.”
“Ronin,” she snapped, and he seemed to return to himself for a moment.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m not?—”
“It’s fine. Just hold still while I take your pants off.”
He groaned. “This is fucking humiliating.”
She unhooked the button and pulled down the zipper, trying not to make contact with the very impressive bulge underneath. Pushing his pants down his legs, she lifted his ankles one by one and shucked them off.
Free of his clothes, he rounded the footboard and toppled onto the mattress.
“Oh no,” she said. “You need to sober up first.”
Though regular liquor didn’t give Fae hangovers, Delirium was another story. If he was going to be of any use at all tomorrow, to be alert and on guard for Otto’s continued madness, she needed to make sure he had a clear head before falling asleep.
He grumbled and whined, but sat upright as she strode to the closet. She found a black t-shirt and cotton pants, then handed him both.
As he dressed himself, shemayhave allowed her gaze to linger just a few seconds longer than necessary on his decadently sculpted torso, the powerful sweep of his thighs, the faint smattering of snow-white hair that trailed into his underwear. Though she did finally avert her eyes when he stripped offthatparticular article of wet clothing.
Once he was decent, she helped him into an armchair and lit the fireplace. She changed into her silk pajamas, then flopped down into the chair across from him.
“What will help?” she asked.
He leaned his head back, staring at her from underneath slitted lids. “What will help with what?”
“What can I do to sober you up? I’ve never… I don’t drink Delirium, so I don’t know how to counteract it. I’m guessing just water or coffee won’t do it?”
He shook his head, his wet hair squeaking on the leather.
“Blood,” he murmured.
“What?”
He leveled a wobbly gaze at her. “Your clean blood. It will speed my healing, help my body counteract the Delirium.”
It wasn’t the craziest suggestion. Fae blooddidhave healing properties.
“Okay,” she breathed out. “How?”
He didn’t answer, his head lolling on his shoulder and his ragged breathing slowing.
“Ronin.”
No reaction.
Fuck, he was worse off than she thought.
She bolted out of her chair and jerked his shoulders. “Ronin.”
