Page 87 of Off the Grid

I know he’s drunk but as I drift off to sleep, the offer is as present in my mind as the taste of his kiss and the feel of his lips. Of the dream that I can’t shake from my mind.

I want his hands on me. Again.

More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Riggs

I groan.

My mouth tastes like the arse of a dead rhinoceros. Jesus.

What kind of poison did Wills give me last night?

Definitely not enough if . . . wait. This is not my flat.

My eyes are wide open now as I scrub a hand over my face and through my hair. I mean, why does it look like my place?

Did Chip and Joanna Gaines rob me while I slept?

Not robbed, you dumb shit.

Made over.

Why do I even know who that is?

Because this place looks like mine, but it’s different. Browns and neutrals and . . . I shift to a seated position, the blanket falling off my legs and onto the floor. I look around, disoriented and discombobulated, but if the status of my cock is any indication—horny as fuck.

Pieces of last night come back to me. Celebrating another strong finish—in the points once again. Secretly happy that I—the number two—finished higher than Andrew, the number one.

The welcome home party—my one cheat night for the month—with shots all around.

Camilla.

Kissing her.

Noticing her—the clothes, the panic, the fucking incredible body wearing both.

And there goes my cock getting even harder.

My cock.

It seems to be a recurring theme here. Front and fucking center.

“Down boy,” I mutter.

“What?” Camilla asks as she walks into the family room from the kitchen area. I had no idea she was there, and for my cock’s sake, it’s probably better that I didn’t.

While her sweatshirt might be baggy again, her legs are bare. Like the long, shapely, and tan type of bare that begs me to stare.

“Do you need something?” she asks as she stops in the middle of the room and studies me. “Water? Nurofen?”

“No,” I grumble, voice gravelly and fuzzy head slowly clearing. “I said down boy.”

Her eyes slide down automatically to my hard-on. It’s not like I can hide it. And she swallows forcibly.