“Slate.” I ignore her. I’m not telling her again that I’m Onyx.
“Slate!” she says louder, banging me on my ass.
Warmth hits my back.
“Too late.”
She’s vomited all down my back. Now the damage has been done and her dorm is in view, I start to run and I’m sure she pukes again. I drop her on her ass at her door, feeling around in her pockets for her key. Thank God it’s easy to find. I unlock the door and drag her in.
Leaving her laughing on the floor, I go to her bathroom and strip down to my boxers, throwing the clothes in the corner to deal with tomorrow. The scent of sickly-sweet alcohol fills the room and my lip curls in distaste. I jump in the shower to freshen up.
When I go back into her room, she is curled in a ball on the floor where I dumped her. I look at the camera and hope someone is watching. “I need clothes,” I tell it.
“I have some in the thingy,” Amelie slurs pointing to her closet. Sawyer must have left some here. I obviously meant I would need clothes in the morning, but she thinks I mean to sleep in them. There’s no way I’m wearing her boyfriend's clothes, it would feel too much like trying to compete with himfor her heart. Instead, I just dig around and find her an oversized shirt. My boxers will be fine for me.
Picking up a tiny girl her size would generally be easy...unless she’s wasted. Suddenly she’s all dead weight, but I manage to get her on her bed and stripped to her underwear. The tights baffle me. I debate leaving them on but they look uncomfortable as fuck, so I battle her out of them as she writhes around like a slippery eel. Fucking things. I put my stupid clumsy fingers through the fine material and hope that she doesn’t care.
Once she’s in her bra and panties, I hesitate. She half wakes and starts to touch me, running her hands up my arms, across my shoulders and down my bare chest, chasing away the final water droplets from the shower.
“Not now,” I firmly tell her, pulling her hands away from the searing hot skin she’s just set alight with her touch. She bloody pouts at me and I almost consider saying fuck it.
“But Slate, I thought you wanted me.”
I grind my teeth in frustration. That. That’s why I can’t. Not because she’s a drunken ass, but because she wouldn’t be having sex with me. No, she’d be having the time of her life with my perfect broken twin with all his scars and his baggage and his tortured artist’s soul.
“I do, just not like this.” I don’t know if I’m answering for Slate or myself. If I’m being honest, I like her as much as my brothers do – maybe more – but I can’t risk it.
“Fine.” She huffs, avoiding the shirt I’m holding out for her, and wiggling around until she somehow manages to get the blanket pulled down. She crawls in, whips her bra and panties off, and pats the space beside her. This is a bad idea. A really bad idea. But bad ideas are usually where I gravitate to.
I hesitate for a second, before dropping the towel around my waist and climbing in under the covers next to her. Amelie doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. I prop myself up on myelbow and gaze down at her. She’s fast asleep. Gently, so as not to disturb her, I lower myself back down onto my side and carefully tuck my arm around her, cradling her back to my front. I don’t expect to sleep, but oblivion calls and before I can respond, it steals me away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amelie
I wince at the pounding in my head. Who knew sugary cocktails could be more brutal than hard bourbon? My sticky eyes reluctantly prise apart and I’m relieved to find I’m in my own bed. A heat spreads across my abdomen though, and as I reach down to rub the spot my hand brushes against an arm. I jerk away, but whoever has a hold of me pulls me closer. My bare back presses against a bare chest and —
Oh my god. Serious morning wood strains against my ass. Holy shit! Why am I naked? It’s far too cold to sleep naked in this godforsaken country now.
I lie still, thankful that whoever is in my bed appears to still be sleeping. I need a second to figure this out. I strain to remember last night...Kalen, drinks, riding Frost like a horse. Oh god, please don’t say I slept with my bodyguard. Myoldbodyguard at that.
Shadowy memories scratch at the periphery of my mind as I try to quiet my racing heart. That’s not it. There was something, someone else.
Slate.
Remaining stock-still, I try to glance over my shoulder to confirm my suspicions, but all I can see is dark hair. Damn.
“Slate?” I hiss quietly. I have no idea why I’m whispering if I’m trying to wake him up. “Slate!”
A low sleepy groan escapes his lips and damn if it doesn’t make my nipples harden instantly. I wiggle a little to try to rouse him, but he clamps me tighter and grinds up against me. A whimper escapes me. I want him. I’ve missed him so much, his touch...we could do this right now.
I wiggle back a little, encouraging him to give me more. The arm he has wrapped around my waist shoots south, his hand grabbing my hip with force. Hot breath tickles the back of my neck before he kisses my skin and I relax into him. He slides his hard cock between my thighs but doesn’t try anything else, simply kissing across the top of my shoulders and back. I press back against him with a soft moan, rocking my hips in a silent plea for more.
As Slate kisses down my spine, his hand slides from my hip down between my legs. I’m already wet and waiting for him. He dips between my folds then circles up to my clit, making my hips buck. I bite down on my lip to keep quiet, unwilling to break the spell between us. As his fingers start to toy with me, I rock and slide along his cock, keeping pace with his movements and his kisses. It feels amazing, but I want and need more.
Sliding forwards, I rub the tip of his cock against my entrance, lining him up just right before sinking down on him. The stretch feels so good, I groan. My head falls back against his shoulder and he kisses along my jawline. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, and a sudden flashback of me doing the same thing last night hits me.
“Please,” I groan, silence be damned.
