Page 62 of Heart of Thorns

“Oooh, are you going to take me to bed?” She smiles. “Ravage me like one of those wicked jersey chasers?”

“If you were a jersey chaser, I would’ve left you at the party.”

Her smile widens.

I shake my head and get her out of the car, keeping an arm around her waist to make sure she doesn’t eat shit on the way inside.

Upstairs.

I nudge her toward the bathroom and quickly shed my shirt and jeans, changing back into the sweats I wore before Rhys’s text. Now, I’m infinitely glad I heeded his advice and showed up.

Where were her friends? They weren’t anywhere near her, keeping an eye on her, that’s for sure. Or they saw me and backed off… and let me just carry her out of the party?

I press my lips together, unsure which thought is worse.

Briar enters the room and throws something at me.

I barely get my hands up in time to catch her shirt, and my breath catches. “Briar.”

Her jeans follow a second later, and I let out a growl.

“I want you,” she says, a repeat of earlier. She reaches back and slowly undoes the clasps of her bra. “There’s so much tension between us, Thorne. So let’s just fuck and get it out of our systems.”

“I did not anticipate this,” I mutter, more to myself than her.

She drops her bra, and I’m greeted with the sight of arguably the best tits on the planet. Her nipples pebble in the cool air, her areolas are light pink, and I itch to take her breasts in my hands.

Not while she’s like this.

I know what regret feels like—and I would die if we woke up the next morning and she was ashamed of what we did.

I snag a shirt out of my dresser and motion her closer.

She smiles at me, batting her eyelashes, and reaches for the waistband of my sweatpants.

I ignore her until I can get the shirt over her head.

“Hey—”

“I mean it.” I guide her arms through the sleeves and catch her wrists from any more groping. I walk her backward to the bed and give her a light shove onto it. “Sleep this off.”

Her body bounces, and she stares up at me. “Alone?”

“I…”

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the couch.” I grit my teeth. I don’t love that idea, but…

“I’ll keep my hands to myself.” She shuffles back to the edge of the bed. “Just…”

“What?”

“Stay.”

The sudden vulnerability in her gaze has to be alcohol or drug related, right? But she blinks once, twice, and her eyes flood with tears.

Shit.

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