Page 42 of Veil of Lies

“I can walk you back if you prefer?” Quinn piped up. “I have more clothes on.”

Stella looked his way and then blushed again. Quinn was wearing a tee shirt but his gray joggers didn’t do much to disguise the outline of his dick, which was why he’d said it. The fucker.

“Harley can take me, if he doesn’t mind.”

“Sweetheart, it’ll be my pleasure,” I purred. If luck was on my side, it would be a one-way trip and I could spend another few delicious hours wrapped around her sexy little body.

From the way Quinn threw me a look designed to immolate me on the spot, I knew he’d read my mind. When Stella looked away, I grinned.

It sucked to be him.

Chapter 34

Stella

By the time I unlocked my apartment door, I was beyond tired. Exhaustion colored me gray and all I wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for hours. It had been weeks since I’d had a full seven hours of sleep. Most nights I barely managed four or five.

Harley followed me in, pushing the door shut behind us. I heard the lock click and sighed. It was obvious he had no intention of leaving and while I knew I should have kicked him out, I didn’t have the energy.

Instead, I quickly disappeared into the bathroom to brush my teeth and change for bed. If Harley thought he was getting sex, he had another thing coming. Not tonight, Josephine.

To my surprise, he was already under the comforter when I came back into my bedroom, a smug grin on his handsome face.

“I need to get some sleep,” I said through gritted teeth. “I really think you should leave.”

The annoying shit didn’t listen to me. He pulled the comforter back and gestured for me to get in. It was too late, and I was too tired to argue, so I put my phone on the charger, turned the lamp off, and crawled under the covers.

Harley tucked me into his chest and I closed my eyes. I could feel the steady beat of his heart under my cheek. It was surprisingly soothing.

Maybe this was a short-term fling, but right now, I didn’t care.

Chapter 35

Brax

My head pounded in my skull. It felt like someone was trying to split it open with a pneumatic drill. How much tequila did I drink last night? I tried to sift through my memories of the previous evening, but everything was…vague. I remembered sinking half a bottle in our apartment, and then going up to the roof terrace. After that it was murky. Fuck.

Some kind soul had left a glass of water and some Tylenol next to the bed. I tried to lift my head but the pain was horrific. Dear lord, why did I do this to myself? Each time I woke up with a hangover from Hell, I vowed to stop drinking. This shit was getting old. If I wasn’t careful, I’d need a new fucking liver in a year. Or so Quinn kept telling me.

The problem was, getting wasted was the best way I knew to block out the pain. Weed helped, but it didn’t knock me out in the same way. Only hard liquor did that.

It took a while but eventually the Tylenol kicked in enough for me to crawl out of bed. I stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. My stomach churned uncomfortably, reminding me I hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch yesterday. I needed some food to soak up the residual alcohol in my system.

Once dressed, I left my bedroom in search of something to eat.

“You look like shit,” Quinn remarked when he saw me. I slumped against the kitchen counter and tried not to vomit. Maybe some coffee would help. He read my mind and passed me a mug of black coffee, no cream, just the way I liked it.

“Toast?”

I nodded. If I managed to keep a slice of dry toast down, I’d consider it a win.

He popped some bread in the toaster and continued swiping shit on his phone while I ignored the nasty roiling in my stomach.

A few minutes later, a slice of dry toast appeared in front of me. I took a bite and chewed nervously. Food usually helped, but it had been a while since I’d drunk as much as I did last night.

Thankfully, the toast did help to settle my nausea.

“Carry on the way you are and we’ll need to book you into rehab,” Quinn sniped.

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