Page 44 of My Ruthless Neighbor

He didn’t take his eyes off her since she clasped his wrist.

What just happened?

The booze and the confrontation, the grand entry of Archer, and their almost fight overwhelm me. So much so, that my legs give up on me.

I wait for my body to hit the marble floor but I am suddenly surrounded by strong arms. The warmth of the embrace makes my lids flutter open.

Archer’s face comes into view. He’s wearing a frown as he stares down at me. Reaching up, I try to erase the lines between his brows with my finger.

“Summer.”

My name on his lips makes me smile. For the first time, he uttered my name without hatred or irritation lacing it. Out of all the things I wanted to say to this infuriating man, “Mmm. You smell good,” are my last words before darkness takes me under.

???

Something wet swipes against my cheek. I try to open one eye and cringe as the blinding sunlight streaming from the large window assaults my eyeballs.

Shielding my eyes, I crack an eye open and find Goldie licking my face.

I lift the blanket and he gets the hint. He climbs inside and I spoon him, snuggling the softness.

“I feel like shit.” I croak, my mouth is dry as hell.

I always sleep with a water bottle. It’s still resting on the nightstand. But my bones aren’t ready to function yet. I allow myself to cuddle Goldie for ten more seconds before scooting over to grab it.

My lids are still pinched shut as I gulp down the water. Silently cursing when it escapes my lips and dribbles down my chin.

With the back of my hand, I wipe my mouth. The action triggers a memory.

“I don’t feel so good.” I moan. There’s a burning sensation building again in my throat. And then I am reaching for the commode.

I make it just in time, and bracing my hands on the seat, I begin vomiting.

“Why drink when you can’t handle it?” Archer wipes my brows, his other hand securing my long hair.

My stomach churns as I slowly turn my head to look at him. “Why care for me when you hate me?”

He doesn’t say anything after that. Just keeps holding me. Keeps supporting my tired form whenever I go to rise on my knees for throwing up.

I have no idea how much time we spent in the bathroom but Archer doesn’t make a move to leave.

When the vomiting stops and my body trembles from the dry heaving, I tell him that he can leave now.

But he doesn’t.

When the ordeal finally ends, I slump back to his chest.

He brings a bottle of water to my lips. He helps me drink it because all the vomiting has exhausted me. There’s no energy left to lift a finger.

“No more.”

He glares at me and makes me finish it.

When a few droplets spill out and over my chin, he wipes it with the pad of his thumb. The tender touch makes my heart ache for some reason. I am not used to this.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He says.

In a daze, I feel him picking me up and carrying me out like a child. The last thought that plays in my mind before passing out again is that I ended up in his arms. Once again.

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