Page 8 of Huge Games

"She deserves so much more."

Again, the creep of jealousy fills me. Celine makes a small sighing sound, and I focus on the curve of her hipand dip of her waist in the darkness. "She does."

"She's going to go off the rails. Last time she broke up with Eddie, she ended up in my bed."

"She what?" I bolt into a seated position because Celine never mentioned anything about spending the night with Elias.

"Yeah. She wanted sex. She was sober. I'm a man. I didn't say no."

"Well, you should have." My anger makes my voice a harsh, low spit.

"If she'd come to you, you would have done the same. And don't try to deny it."

"I would have done the same," Travis admits.

It's hard to face up to the reality that I would have, too. "She's vulnerable. She doesn't need another asshole taking advantage of her like Eddie."

The room goes silent, and after a few more minutes of focusing on Celine's breathing, I fall asleep with the imagined image of her spread out beneath me.

3

CELINE

A loud beeping noise behind me cuts into my sleep like a dagger. I cup my ear with my hand to muffle the sound and open my eyes a crack, finding shadowy shapes I don’t recognize in my line of sight.

Despite my pounding head and the fact that my tongue has fastened itself to my palette, I fling myself into a seated position and search the darkness.

"Celine," a husky voice whispers from the shadows. "It's okay. You're okay."

"Celine," another husky voice whispers from my left where I can make out another bed. "It's okay. We took you to a motel. Me, Elias, and Travis."

"A motel." Instinct drives my hands between my legs, but I don't feel any post-fuck soreness or wetness. I'm still fully clothed.

"You lost your keys. Don't you remember?" Elias's voice comes from the end of the bed where I can make out his shadowy shape sitting in a chair.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Where is Travis?"

"I'm down here," a gruff voice mumbles from the floor. I glance down to find him stretched out on what looks like a bearskin rug, shirtless, with his jeans unbuttoned.

Lordy.

That is one fine stretch of man-torso right there. It's a shame I was too drunk to appreciate the opportunity that surrounds me on all sides.

Elias stands from the chair I can make out at the end of my bed, stretching his huge, muscular arms over his shoulders. He's still wearing his shirt, which is a shame, but even in the darkness and through a layer of gray fabric, I can make out his dinner-plate-size pecs and the tightness of his abs. His athletic physique is still scorched onto my brain from our previous shared night of torrid pleasure.

Dornan rises from the bed and swaps places with Elias.

"You set an alarm so you can switch?" I ask.

"Yep. We've got practice tomorrow. We need at least some sleep."

"So why didn't someone share the bed with me?" There's a beat of silence before I comprehend what gentlemen they've been while I've been in a drunken coma. "Dornan, get over here. You can't sleep in that chair."

"Why Dornan?" Elias, who has already made himself comfortable in the adjacent bed, props himself up on his elbow and fixes his devil-black eyes on me. Even in the dark, they have a strangely opaque reflective quality that sends a shiver up my spine. Those eyes stared into mine as he made me come, and it felt like he turned me inside out emotionally as well as physically.

"Because he's the one in the chair."

"Damn," Elias mutters, flopping onto his back and folding his arms behind his head. "I knew I should have stayed in the chair."

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