Page 12 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
A little whimper and she went quiet again.
I got up and checked the pockets of a small suitcase atop a luggage stand then moved to the bathroom. Several cosmetic products were on the counter along with a tube of toothpaste and a small toiletries bag. I searched through it, coming up with a couple of those travel blister packs containing ibuprofen.
Victory.
Now to get her to take them.
Returning to the bed, I attempted once again to rouse her. “Hey there, wake up. I need you to take this.”
“Go away,” she said softly in a much clearer tone than I’d expected.
“I can’t do that. Not until you’ve taken this ibuprofen and had some water. Come on now, sit up for me.”
“Tired.”
“I know you are, and you can sleep as soon as you’ve taken this. Come on now, Red. Just a couple of sips.”
Sliding an arm beneath her upper back, I pulled her up to a sitting position, supporting her slumping body against my own. I ripped the blister pack open with my teeth and shook the small orange tablets out onto my palm, holding it up to her mouth.
“Okay, here we go.”
Thankfully, she cooperated, pressing her lower lip against my palm and licking the tablets into her mouth.
Um okay.
Once again I had to tell my dick not to get any big ideas.
It’s not happening.
“Okay now take a sip,” I urged, and once again, Red cooperated, swallowing several gulps of water.
“Good girl. Now you can go to sleep.”
She nodded and reached for the shoulder straps of her dress, tugging them down in an attempt to strip again.
Fuck.I popped up from the bed. “Where are your pj’s?” I asked as I ransacked the suitcase.
No answer.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw Red had gotten the dress off and turned over, putting the thong panties into full view once again.
God help me.
I whipped back around and resumed my spelunking expedition, moving from the suitcase to the bureau drawers, tearing through them like a twister across a Kansas plain.
“Don’t you haveanyfucking pajamas in here?” I yelled in a near panic. It seemed like every garment I picked up was tinier than the last.
“It’s my honeymoon,” she said in a sleepy slur.
Right.I guessed there wasn’t much of a need for pajamas on a honeymoon—not that I’d ever experienced one.
Finally, I grabbed the hem of my own t-shirt and pulled it over my head. It was reasonably clean—I’d changed into it before we’d gone out tonight. There might be some cologne on it, but I hadn’t sweated in it or spilled anything on it.
Hell, even if it had been soaked in beer and sporting mustard stains it would have been better than letting her sleep in the (nearly) nude all night.
Because there was no way I could leave her here alone.
Not when there was a good chance those cocktails would be making a second appearance. I’d promised her sister to keep her safe, and that meant staying up all night to watch over her.
