Page 79 of Consume Me

Three more shots, and the girls start singing—they’re hammered. Abi and Mia can sing, but the other two are way off-tune. I can’t help but scrunch up my face.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” warns Kaden. Asshole.

When the girls finally want to leave, I breathe a sigh of relief.

It takes us way longer than necessary to get home because Mia keeps stopping to dance to a song only she knows, humming softly. Bailey keeps stopping to check for her phone, which is always in the same place—her jacket pocket. She walks aheadwith Hunter, who shakes his head at her but keeps his distance. Abi and Dane are kissing against a street lamp, and Kaden is carrying Celine piggyback.

Mia comes to a halt and pouts, being fucking adorable.

“I am hot,” my drunk girl says, giving me those bedroom eyes. She’s about to take off her jacket, but I am done. I gather her in my arms, and she squeals but locks her arms around my neck.

“Horny too. Like, fuck me already.”

“Not when you’re drunk.”

“You’re no fun,” she says and immediately falls asleep

“Lightweight,” I say, watching her beautiful lashes flicker a few times. A few snowflakes rest on her cheek, and I blow them away, not wanting the cold to disturb her peace.

Hunter leaves the door open for us, and I carry Mia upstairs to her room. Placing her gently on the bed, I undress her.

My hungry eyes peruse every perfect inch of her. Tugging at my shirt, I pull it off and put it on her. Something stirs in my chest, seeing her in my T-shirt, roaring with the need to claim, mark, possess.

I climb into bed with her, painfully hard. I am in too fucking deep with her.

A groan parts my dry throat, and my head throbs. Memories of last night seep through my mental fog.

I drank too many shots of tequila. What started as us girls wanting to spend some time together ended with me suggesting we party, just to forget about him––the guy who has been sleeping by my side.

A soft touch has my eyes opening. Blake has a look on his face that I can’t pinpoint. It’s almost soft and gentle as he sweeps a strand of hair from my face.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His deep, sleep-filled voice has butterflies fluttering in my belly.

“Ugh… terrible.”

He offers me a glass of water and a pill.

“For the headache.”

“Thank you.”

He brushes his nose against mine, and my heart stills for a moment, only to be resurrected viciously in the next, pounding like crazy.

What is he doing to me?I am trapped in this limbo with my protector, wanting so much more from him. I can’t keep asking for it, though, because the pill of rejection would be too hard to swallow.

Not saying anything validates whatever this is we have going on. Even though I crave his nearness and ache for his attention, I want more. Thatmorewill ruin me for good.

“Were you able to sleep a bit?” I ask, worried about him.

“A bit,” he says, still looking at me and caressing my cheek.

When he retracts his hand, pain swallows that hope, leaving me desolate.

“We need a bit of distance,” I say, and he arches a brow.

“This is not––”

“What is it not? Normal?” He drags in a lungful of air. “Did I ever give you the impression I was normal?”

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