Page 69 of So Wild

Scott gladly handed it over and an unspecified amount of drunk-time later, he and the most beautiful woman in the world were crossing the hotel foyer and heading for the elevator.

“Which floor?”

“Uh…twelve.”

She leaned forward to push the button and her hair slipped over her shoulders, exposing the small key and heart on the side of her pale neck. He brushed the place with his fingertip. “Is that new?”

Sam bit her lower lip. “Um, yes. I had it done last week. I’m surprised you noticed with all this other stuff happening.” She held up her arms, displaying her tattoos.

“I notice everything about you,” Drunk-Scott said, before Regular-Scott could stop him.

Sam pursed her lips and he felt like an idiot.

“I remembered, you didn’t have it when we tackled that bad guy,” he corrected. “Well, you tackled a bad guy, I yelled at teenagers.”

Sam’s perturbed expression softened slightly. “It was still nice of you to stand up for me.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

Scott had been aiming for rugged drunken charm and realised a beat too late that what he’d said was:

a) True

b) Another one of those drunk thoughts that should have stayed safely inside his brain-box.

He opened his mouth to explain, or perhaps dig himself a deeper hole, but Sam’s arms were slipping around his neck and her mouth was on his. There was desperation in her kiss, as though she was going as fast as she could before some unknown circumstance ripped them apart.

He kissed her gently and then backed away, looking into her eyes. “Are you uncomfortable? We can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, but Scott noticed her gaze flicked to the side. Maybe she was worried that if they didn’t hurry up, he would pass out. He needed to correct that. “I know I’m a bit pissed, but you need to know I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel good.”

Sam gnawed her bottom lip. “I just think a decent person would drop you off. You’re pretty loose, Galahad.”

Scott laughed. “I’m fine, Samantha, I’m practically sober. Well, not sober, but a three out of ten at most.”

He was talking out of his arse but Samantha seemed slightly mollified. He wasn’t going to not get off with the girl of his literal dreams thanks to his own shitty drinking behaviour. The elevator dinged and they vacated to attempt to find his room among the labyrinth of identical doors. After a false start, he found room 919 and fumbled with his key card, failing to insert it in the tiny slot until Sam took it away and did it for him.

“I know this seems bad, but again, I promise I’ll be focused when it comes to any and all bedroom action.”

Sam held the door open for him. “That’s okay, I’m focused enough for both of us.”

Scott was on the verge of asking why that was, considering they’d both taken the tequila bus to drunkville, but Sam was slipping her top over her head, showing porcelain skin and breasts and more delicate vine tattoos. He imagined tracing them with his tongue and his cock thickened against his thigh.

“We don’t have to r-r-rush,” he said, too overcome to berate himself about stuttering. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

“Not even a little bit.” She unclipped her bra and he moaned at the sight of her nipples. He barely had time to focus before she dropped her skirt and was standing in front of him in only panties and heels. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. Was this real? Clothed Sam was gorgeous, but semi-naked, she was a vision. Her tattoos were stark against her skin, ink-black and beautiful—a kitten on her right side, a spray of roses across her stomach, and a wicked-looking woman on her left shoulder. As he stared, Scott was sure he recognised who he was seeing. “Is that Morgan Le Fay?”

Sam blinked. “You noticed?”

“My grandfatherwasan Arthurian professor and I already told you—”

“You notice everything about me.” She twisted so he could see Morgan more clearly. “Do you like her?”

“I think she’s beautiful. I thinkyou’rebeautiful.” His drunkenness prompted him to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. “Did I have anything to do with Morgan? I mean, not why you got her but the whole…the two of us sitting in the tree reading Le Morte d’Arthur together?”

Sam licked her lips. “I…yes. I’d imagine it had a lot to do with you, Galahad.”

Scott grinned, feeling like a million dollars before he watched Sam’s face harden again. For a moment he was confused, and then he realised exactly what was wrong—he wasn’t doing anything useful or sexy, he was just standing there trying to take credit for her tattoos. He needed to show what he was made of. Without stripping off his jacket, he strode toward her, kissing her with all the intensity he could muster. To his relief, she responded with hungry enthusiasm, squeezing his ass before pushing him back onto the bed.

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