Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Ben?” Makayla groans in my lap.
“Yeah? Do you need to be sick again?”
She barely raises her head. “No. Please take me home?”
“Yeah. You got it.” I stand up with her in my arms and walk through the house. Hannah and Bridget are in the living room, waiting. “She’s fine. I’m taking her home.”
“Call us if anything changes. Tell her I love her.”
I nod to Hannah. “I will.” I secure her in the passenger seat and drive home. She passes out immediately. When we get to the apartment, I carry her up and inside.
“Babe,” I say, trying to wake her up. Her passing out so quickly after being sick doesn’t sit well with me. “I need you to open your eyes for me.” She groans and snuggles her face into my chest.
My worry heightens, triggering my anger. Did she drink just to get back at me? I was only looking out for her. I’ve seen too many close calls with people mixing booze and prescription drugs. If this is a game to one-up me, it’s gone too far.
She’s dead weight in my arms as I carry her to my room and change her out of her clothes and into one of my T-shirts. Laying her on my bed, I position her on her side in case she needs to vomit again. Still not feeling at ease, I climb in next to her, my eyes trained on her every move.
Hours pass before I finally fall asleep.
Chapter 27
Makayla
I roll over in bed, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My stomach clenches, and I groan, curling into the fetal position.
“Hey.” Ben’s voice is soft, laced with concern.
I look up, my eyes still groggy from sleep, and find Ben leaning over me. “Hey.” Ugh. . . my throat is so sore.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Like I had the time of my life minus the time of my life.” I sit up and catch a wave of dizziness.
“Hey, relax. Here. Drink some water.”
That sounds amazing right now. I accept the glass and gulp it down. The liquid coats my mouth and soothes my throat. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“Yeah.” He takes the glass and sets it back on the nightstand. “What happened last night? Thought we agreed mixing booze and meds was a bad idea?”
I look back at him, confused. “I didn’t drink.”
“Come on, Mak. I’m not gonna be mad. I was just worried about you. I see this shit all the time. Even the smallest amount can have—”
“Yeah, great. Like I said, I didn’t drink,” I cut him off, my tone sharp. “I may not have a daddy anymore, but it doesn’t mean I need a new one.” I throw my legs off the bed to escape his scrutiny. He pulls me back, pressing my back to the bed. “Let me go.”
“No. I’m not trying to be your daddy. I’m trying to be your concerned boyfriend. You scared me last night. I have the right to worry.” His blue eyes blaze down at me.
“Well, I’m fine.”
“Are you? One second, you were giving me those fuck-me eyes, then, when I looked back, you were pale as a ghost.”
I ease back on the attitude. “I have no idea. I was fine, then my stomach started to hurt. I didn’t think much of it. Maybe a bad burger?” The creases between his eyes become more prominent. “Honestly. I didn’t drink. It had to have been food poisoning.”
“We all ate the same shit.”
“Unlucky draw? I’m fine now. Maybe a little queasy. Nothing a breakfast buffet won’t cure.” His cheeky grin finally shines through.
“Breakfast buffet, huh?”
“Yeah, figured since I’ve over-stayed my forty-eight-hour limit, I can get the full red-carpet experience on my way out.”
His head dips, brushing his lips over mine. “And what makes you think you’re leaving?”
The challenge in his tone stimulates the flutters in my belly. “Because a deal’s a deal,” I reply, my voice shaky.
“Not sure if you noticed, but I’m a deal breaker. And I don’t play fair. But you already know that. So, let’s skip to the whole leaving thing. You’re not going anywhere.” I search my brain for a witty comeback, but he’s rendered me speechless.
“Pancakes,” I mutter out.
“Pancakes?”
“Yeah, feed me pancakes. Syrup too. Oh, and sprinkles. Do that and call me your girlfriend again—it doesn’t have the worst ring to it—and I’ll stay. . .”
His mouth drops, granting me the softness of his kiss. I sigh, basking in this moment. “What’s the sigh for, girlfriend?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Not sure. Maybe I’m just happy.” I part my mouth, inviting his tongue to explore. I never imagined a kiss could feel so perfect. His hips press into me, earning another sigh.
“Glad I’m making you happy.”
“Never mentioned you. Just happy. Thinking about all that syrupy pan—” His cock brushes against my swelling heat, and I choke on the remainder of my sentence.