Page 175 of Finding Delaware

“Alrighty-roo, you’re all set.” Nurse dude smiles impatiently, clearly wanting us to hurry for bed space. “Do you need a wheelchair?”

“I’m good.” Swinging my legs to the floor, I fight the nausea as I try to stand. Huck reaches out to wrap his arm around my waist, and despite the shredded feeling inside my chest, I let him steady me. Every nerve lights up at his touch, goosebumps spreading across my flesh, the intoxicating scent of his aftershave surrounding me in a cocoon of warmth. I cling to him shamelessly as we hobble out. My feet grow more stable the further we go, and by the time we reach a shiny Audi, I’m walking on my own.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I scrunch my nose at the new car smell and pull my seatbelt on as Huck gets behind the wheel.

“You can probably drop me off at my truck,” I tell him, honestly feeling better since they pumped me full of electrolytes. Still obviously buzzed, but I can at least sleep in the cab until tomorrow morning.

“Shut up, Taylor,” Huckslee snaps through his teeth, putting the vehicle in reverse. “Just shut up.”

I shoot him a glare. “Look, I appreciate you helping me, but I’m fine now. Seriously. You can go back to your boyfriend.”

He exhales sharply as he merges onto a freeway. “You’remy boyfriend.”

“Not according to Pretty Boy Shawn, I’m not.”

“I swear to God, if you say another word, I’ll pull over and stuff you in my trunk.”

I’m not even gonna analyze why my dick jumps at that threat.

We’re supposed to be mad at him, motherfucker, I think, seething down at my crotch as Huck takes an exit onto some quiet, empty road. I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I’mclear-headed enough to know it’s not back to the frat house. We drive silently for a while, and I lean against the window, taking in the moonlit coast, feeling like my insides have been scooped clean. A pit of self-loathing yawns within, consuming me. Why the fuck did I grab that bottle? Why did I turn into my dad again? If Christian or Salem had been here, this never would have happened.

Eventually, he pulls into a suburban neighborhood, the streets lined with cute houses that all look the same, with terracotta shingled roofs and palm trees in the front yards. The homes become older and further apart as we drive until Huck pulls into the driveway of a ranch-style rambler at the end of the road, parking under a carport before shutting off the engine.

“Where are we?” I ask, peering out into the dark and grimacing at a grease mark on the window from my hair.

“My grandparents’.”

Without another word, he exits the car, slamming the door before going over to a back gate, where he disappears. For a minute, I contemplate sitting here in solidarity because I’m mad at him, but then the Audi begins to honk as he locks and unlocks it with his key fob, clearly demanding I follow. And, of course, I do because the scent of the fresh leather seats only makes my headache worse, and I hate the silence. Plus, my phone is missing, so that sucks.

Slamming my own door with a huff, I make my way through the gate into the backyard, squinting my tired eyes at the sight of a large in-ground pool glowing a soft hue of blue. Fairy lights twinkle above, lining the yard from a covered back porch to the roof of a guest house where Huckslee stands waiting.

“In,” he commands, pointing to a set of French doors, his delicious jaw set firmly.

Muttering under my breath, I brush past him inside. He’s close behind, flicking on a switch as he shuts the doors, and the sudden flood of light makes me hiss as I squeeze my eyes shut. It takes a second for the sharp pain in my temples to dissipate, but when my lids peel open, I slowly take in the room we’re standing in.

A soft-looking queen bed with a wrought-iron headboard sits against the far wall, flanked by two nightstands. To the left is a desk piled with boxes, and to the right sits a mirrored dresser holding a flatscreen. An ornate rug covers the tiled floor, and shelves line the walls with various books and figurines I remember from his room at our parents’ house.

“This is where I stayed during the summer and weekends when I wasn’t in school,” Huck explains softly, kicking a cardboard box out of the way as he walks toward an adjoining bathroom. “I’ve been moving shit back and forth from the apartment all day. Come on.”

My eyes fall to the swell of his ass while I watch him walk away, those hard muscles flexing in his tight jeans, and I follow him with a scowl. Why? Out of all the men I could have been attracted to, it had to be Huckslee Davis. Honestly, I don’t know if my heart can take it anymore. It feels like a dirty rag that’s been used and wrung out too many times.

He stands above a jetted tub and turns on the shower, testing the temperature with his back to me. “Take off your clothes.”

His bossiness has my cock perking up, but I cross my arms. “No. You don’t get to tell me what to do after today.”

“Taylor.” The low timbre of his voice and the dangerous undertone send a shiver through me. “Undress, or so help me, I’ll rip that hospital gown off you myself.”

The what? Oh, yeah.

I frown down at myself, examining the light blue smock covering me over my jeans. Where the hell did my tank top go? How wasted was I? Fuck, I hate this side of myself. I vowed two years ago that I’d never be here again, yet here I am. Falling right back into old habits. Because I’ll never be anything but my father’s kid. Bad genes all around.

Gentle fingers brush the bottom of my chin, tilting my face up to meet Huckslee’s concerned gaze. “Baby, please. Let me take care of you, and then we can talk.”

Goddamn, the way he makes me melt when he begs. I’m so deep in it for him that I’d give him anything he asks for, even if it hurts me. Even if it kills me.

He turns me around to face the double-vanity sink, his eyes holding mine in the mirror as he unties the gown, letting it drop away. Then his shirt comes off, and the warmth from his bare chest seeps into my back. Wordlessly, he opens the cabinet and hands me a toothbrush and a tube of paste, watching me as I scrub my teeth and rinse.

When I’m finished, his arms encircle my waist, undoing my jeans as he trails kisses along the side of my throat, burning my flesh when I remember where those lips were earlier. Still, I tilt my head to the side, giving him easier access when he slowly slides my pants and briefs down until they fall to the floor. My hard cock springs up to slap against my lower abs, hard and aching to be touched.

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