Page 51 of Obsession on Repeat
"Nor can you operate a seat belt. It’s amazing."
"If you’re trying to get in my pants, you’re gonna need better compliments."
He placed his hands on my hips, mindful of the fact we were standing in his driveway where all of his neighbors could see had they been awake. No doubt a few of them were currently glued to their windows by now. "Compliments aren’t what you want right now."
"And what do I want?" I squealed when he suddenly scooped me up into his arms. "Not so fast, the world is spinning!"
Grunting, Asher carried me to the front door, taking the stairs two steps at a time. He entered the living room, sitting me down on the couch, and I flopped back against the huge cushions, watching him with hooded eyes as he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and stopped in the doorway at the sight of me curled up with a pillow, my eyes shut.
"Rory, are you awake?" He lowered the glass onto the coffee table, quietly removing my shoes, and shifted me comfortably on my side. Grabbing a huge fleece blanket from the back of the couch, he covered me with it.
15
Thescentofcoffeewas the first thing I noticed. The second was the blanket tucked under my chin. My head throbbed, my mouth tasted foul, and my memories were… blurry. I sat up slowly, the blanket slipping down my shoulders. I was in my clothes from the night before, minus my shoes. A glass of water and two ibuprofen waited on the coffee table.
As if summoned by the movement, Asher appeared from the hallway, barefoot, dressed in joggers and a plain black T-shirt, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a phone in the other. "You live."
"Barely. Did I…?"
"You licked my hand and tried to seduce my seat belt."
I groaned, dropping my face into my hands. "Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing."
"You called me pretty."
I peeked at him through my fingers. "I regret nothing."
He chuckled, setting his mug down and leaning on the back of the couch. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I’m surviving." I cleared my throat. "Thank you for last night. I can’t remember the last time I got that drunk. I’m sorry I made it weird."
His expression softened. "Rory, whatever you’re figuring out, I’m your friend. You have nothing to apologize for; we all have our low points."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His phone buzzed. Pulling his cell from his pocket, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the screen.
"What is it?" I paused when my phone started buzzing, one vibration after the other, and snatching my phone from the coffee table, I swiped open the screen, literally feeling the color drain from my face.
Sullivan Masters’ Girlfriend Spotted Leaving Club with Asher Lark—Hollywood’s Golden Boy #2?
Beneath it, there was a photo of last night. His arm was around my waist, his hand on the small of my back. My arms around his neck. I didn’t remember doing it, the two of us outside the club next to his truck.
I was startled as my phone suddenly rang. I barely noticed Asher lingering in the background, the phone ringing again before I decided to answer it.
"Sullivan…"
His voice came through cold and flat. "I’m going to ask one question, and I want you to answer it honestly. Did you sleep with him?"
I didn’t hesitate. "No."
"But you were with him."
"I was drunk. Gina and I stayed late, and I wasn’t in any shape to go home alone—"
"So you went home with him," he cut in, his voice tight.
"He took care of me," I snapped. "That’s it."
