Page 43 of Worth Every Penny

The breathless way she says my name sounds likeyes,but also likeplease don’t. I can’t decipher how she feels, and I remind myself how drunk she is. I draw back. “Fuck. Don’t answer that. Go to bed. Please, Kate. Go to bed.”

The plea hangs in the air like a poison we’re too afraid to inhale. Neither of us moves for longer than I care to count.

“Okay,” she whispers. Submissive. Her robe falls slightly open, revealing the curve of a breast beneath.

We share a few more tangled breaths as we come down from whatever fucking high we’re on.

“Are you going to stay?” She sounds insecure, and there is none of her earlier teasing lilt in the question.

I back up, taking a few steps away from her while I run a hand through my hair to calm the fuck down. “Yes. I’ll get you a bottleof water and some painkillers, then I’ll sleep in the other room. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Okay.”

I walk towards the sitting room.

“Hey, Nico?”

I spin back to face her. “Yeah?”

“Are you going to take this”—she gestures to the enormous penthouse suite—“out of my pay?”

I bite my bottom lip, repressing a smile at the concern on her face. “No. This is all on me.”

I wake early the next morning, having slept in my suit on the sofa. My body aches all over and I’m not nearly as well rested as I would like to be. I stayed awake most of the night to make sure Kate didn’t throw up and choke on her own vomit.

I pad back into the bedroom. She’s sleeping quietly, her clothes lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Temptation twists in my chest at the idea she’s completely naked beneath the sheets. She’s so vulnerable. Anything could have happened last night.

I stare at her beautiful face, her tangled hair spread over the pillow. I’ve imagined seeing her like this so many times, but I had no idea that the sight would cause a crushing squeeze around my heart. She’s right here, and yet I can’t have her.

I take another bottle of water from the minibar, intending to replace the now empty one I put on her bedside table last night. She’ll have a terrible hangover when she wakes.

She rustles in the sheets, pulling an arm out of the covers. Her hand hangs over the edge of the bed, and something drops from her fingers, landing at my feet.

I bend to pick it up, but before I touch it, I know exactly what it is.

It’s her fucking driver’s license.

15

KATE

My head is pounding like a ten-inch drum, with a skin that’s too tight and might split at the next beat. This is the worst hangover I’ve had in months, if not years.

My mouth is parched, my tongue fuzzy like it’s wearing a winter glove. I’m damp and sweaty, and the sheets cling all over. Sheets that are so soft… too soft.

These aren’t my sheets.Where am I?

Patches of memory float into my awareness. The club, losing sight of Elly and Marie, tequila shots bought by some guy I didn’t know, Michael Drayton pinning me against the wall, and then…Nico.

Nico! My body flushes hot. And that’s saying something because with this hangover I’m already running well over a healthy temperature.

“Oh, God,” I mumble, head in hands, as more sketchy memories of Nico shift in my mind. His scent, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms as he carried me. All the good memories shatter as his words splinter the remains of my brain.

Stop. Keep your fucking clothes on.

What is it you want?To drive me to distraction so I’ll fuck you?

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