Page 62 of Clinch'd

With a pointed look he steps from the elevator as Mick stops beside me and asks softly, “Are you going to be, okay?”

With a wobbly smile I nod and kiss his cheek. He pats me on the head and follows Rod. The doors slowly close leaving me with Cooper. The silence is deafening but I ignore him as I take deep, even breaths.

At my floor, I step from the elevator and Cooper follows me silently.

After fumbling with the damn key, Cooper grabs it from my hand and pushes the door open. With my chin at my chest I whisper, “I’m good. Thanks.”

Cooper pushes me gently inside and I lose track of him as I race to the toilet and retch painfully. When I’m done, I lean my forehead against the cool porcelain and whimper, “Fuck.”

Of course, it’s not over and after emptying more than I thought possible, I cock my head. When I hear nothing but my deep breaths, I relax.

I don’t have it in me to be sexy or fun. Besides, I can’t compete with the siren waiting for him in the lobby anyway.

After standing on creaky knees, I brush my teeth and collapse on my bed. I’m just pulling the covers to my chin when Cooper appears.

“Wha—“ I mumble when he pulls them back, sits me up and pulls my dress over my head. Next, he pushes a bottle of water into my hands and says, “Drink.”

I silently obey, avoiding his eyes and after laying down, he covers me before stepping from the room. That’s the last thing I remember but my brain isn’t done with my fantasies, and I dream of Cooper all evening.

The following morning, I step gingerly into the elevator with my sunglasses over my eyes. My bags feel like they weigh a ton and I tug on my suitcase with a growl when it catches on the door.

The bright light in the lobby seers my retinas and I suppress a moan when pain slices through my aching head. Every step roils in my nauseous stomach and I pretty much want to die. Like right fucking now.

The only bright side to my impending death is that I’ve hardly had the energy to think about Cooper. Which is why I barely flinch when he appears beside me looking fresh as fuck.

With an annoyed look, I ignore him, stopping at the curb to wait for a taxi.

Beast texted me last night during my complete fucking breakdown and informed me of my flight information. Hopefully, he’ll be at the next spot, because I’m floundering, and I need him to get in my face and be the dick he is. I need the damn wake up call.

“Come on,” Copper says cheerfully, and I groan, rubbing my forehead.

I spy his smile from the corner of my eye but I’m too fucking miserable to argue when he hands my bag to the driver and opens the door to the hired car.

After sliding inside, I lean against the window and breath slowly through my nose. One wrong move and I think I might actually pukeagain. Cooper shifts beside me and I eye him with a sour smile. Maybe I should vomit on him, he deserves to be covered in my disgust—literally.

Ha.

“Something wrong, baby?” he purrs, and I huff before grabbing my head with a groan. I should have stopped after the first fucking drink, or two, fuck at least three. Why did I consume so much damn alcohol?

“Hm,” he says, and I drop my hands. Oh right, because of this asshole.

“I don’t need the commentary,” I sneer, curling my hand into a fist. I’d like to knock the smile right off his face but I’m pretty sure I’ve got nothing on a prize fucking fighter.

“Don’t get all bitchy because you drank too much. Not my problem,” he rasps, clenching his jaw.

Chuckling, I fling out my hand. “That’s right. It’s not.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he barks, and I raise my brow.

“Did I stutter?”

His nostrils flare before he looks away and grits through his teeth, “What do you want from me?”

Snorting, I drop my chin and say, “Not a damn thing.”

“Really? So, your game is over?”

“What?” I say sharply, my heart in my throat.

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