Page 53 of Burn the Wild

Still, hands-to-myself isn’t hard. She’s drunk. There’s no other option. I’d cut my dick off before I ever took advantage of a woman like that.

I shove the T-shirt over her blonde head. A soft, sexy moan pulls from her lips as my fingertips sweep over her thighs, and I grit my teeth.

“There,” I say thickly.

Mouse sits there, silently judging me and my fat fucking erection. I’m so hard it hurts to move.

“No. Not the bracelets,” she murmurs when I reach for her bangles. “They’re solid gold. Stolen from pirates.”

I sink onto the edge of the bed beside her. “Whatever you say.”

Reese groans, her green eyes swimming.

“Room spinning?”

“Yes.”

“Feel like you’re going to puke?”

She gulps. “Yes.”

I grab the trash can. “Here.”

“No,” she whines, shoving it away. “I don’t want to puke in a trash can.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. “You can do it, princess. I’ll hold your hair, and you let it rip.”

She pouts. “I can’t.”

I grin. “Have faith in me, honey. I got you.”

Her eyes fly open, and she lurches forward. I catch her around the waist, bring the can up to her mouth. She leans over and wretches.

I hold her up, feeling the wrack of her slender frame as she gets it all out of her. “Good girl,” I soothe, rubbing her back. “Keep going.”

She does, and when she’s finished, Reese flops on the bed with an exaggerated sigh. “I like your bed. It’s fluffy. Like a cloud from the sky.” Then her eyelids flutter shut, and she passes out cold.

Christ.

Mouse hops on the bed. Her paws find Reese’s flat stomach and knead.

Grady’s words fill my mind.

Just be nice to her. I think she needs it.

Seems like no one has been nice to this girl her entire life.

Frowning, I battle a rush of unease as I cover her bare legs with a blanket. Even in sleep, sadness stains her stunning face. I don’t like tonight—Reese, raw and on edge. The hollow vault of her voice. The pain in her eyes. It reminds me of…

I stare down at her, and a thousand memories I want to forget well up inside of me.

Curled up on my bed, bawling my fucking eyes out because I had lost Savannah.

The stifling silence that fell over the crowd as paramedics carried that kid out of the stadium.

Contemplating a bottle of pills before Davis called and told me to get to the ranch.

The past makes my pulse race as I sit in the chair beside the bed. Exhaling hard, I shove a hand through my hair and grip the back of my neck.

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