Page 114 of Deceptive Games
“No! I want to talk to you, it’s important,” I insisted, not being able to help but lean on her as she somehow helped me to my feet.
“Dammit, Slash. You’re in no state for this conversation. Get in the car. No, the passenger seat. You can’t drive.”
“Drove here, didn’t I?”
“By some miracle,” she muttered, helping me into the seat and slamming my door.
She surprisingly got behind the wheel and didn’t leave me sitting out here in the dark for the rest of the night, giving me a dirty look as she started driving towards the road.
“Where do you live?”
“In a house,” I mumbled, curling into the seat with a yawn.
“Don’t fucking fall asleep on me, asshole. I need your address,” she scolded as sleep pulled me under, my eyes closing and my body relaxing.
CHAPTER TWENTY
RORY
Slash thankfully woke up enough to help me get him into his house. I’d had no choice but to text Hunter to see if he was awake, asking if he knew Slash’s address.
He was luckily still awake and knew, laughing at me for being stuck with Slash’s drunk ass.
I was not impressed, and I’d spent the last five hours glaring at the sleeping prick from the chair in the corner of the room.
I still couldn’t believe he’d shown up in the middle of the night, drunkenly rambling on the doorstep. The second I’d heard his car pull in, I shoved some sweats and a hoodie on, grabbing my phone and his gun on the way downstairs in case I had to call Skeeter to stop his boss from murdering me, or murder the prick myself.
Instead, I’d left the house barefoot to drive the stupid drunk idiot home, some of my anger fizzling out. I had to hate him, but it was hard to hate someone who was being so damn pathetic.
I needed a cigarette and a coffee, but there was no way I was going to take my eyes off him for even a second in case he woke up and shot me or something.
A groan left him as he rolled over, squinting against the bright light. I wasn’t shutting his curtains, I hoped it burned his eyeballs out of their sockets.
It took him a few moments to notice me, his whole body freezing to assess me as I stared right back at him.
“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, his sleepy morning voice going straight to my pussy.
Did I have some kind of weird trauma bond to him? That had never happened before, and I mentally scolded myself. There was no way this asshole was at all what my body needed.
“You showed up at my place in the middle of the night, drunk and begging for forgiveness. I drove you home before you woke up the whole damn house,” I said tightly, his eyes dropping to the gun that was resting on my thigh.
“Why are you still here then? Going to shoot me?” he asked as he sat up slowly, swinging his legs out of bed.
“What was I going to do? Walk home barefoot? I don’t even have my keys on me, I just needed to make you leave before Caden woke up and heard you rambling.”
“You don’t have shoes?”
“No. I don’t even know how you drove to my place, you could barely stand.”
“Last thing I remember is talking to Ty. We were drinking at his place,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as if to help him see his memories better.
“Why were you drinking with Ty? I didn’t think you were friends,” I scoffed, his eyes finding mine.
“Caden wanted alone time with you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“He doesn’t like being alone,” he shrugged, getting to his feet. “I need a shower.”
