Page 48 of Single-Minded
I climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and headed to Presley’s house. She leaned her head against the window, her eyes closed, and silence fell between us.
As I pulled into her driveway, I watched for a sign that she was awake.
“Did you pass out?” I asked quietly.
She smiled in response, then slowly raised her head. “We’re here?”
“Already,” I said dryly. I hopped out, went to her door, and opened it once I was sure she wasn’t leaning against it.
“Come on, princess,” I said, holding my hand out.
She slid down from the seat like liquid pouring out of the SUV. Again, I caught her waist, steadied her. I shook my head, grinning, thinking this was so unlike the woman who was always in absolute control.
She swayed on her feet, even with me hanging on.
“I’m ssssorry, West. I don’t normally get this hammered.”
“Weddings can be dangerous,” I said, thinking back on some I’d been to for my army buddies a few years back.
We got to the front door, and I realized she wasn’t carrying a purse or bag of any kind.
“Where’s your key?” I asked.
She dipped her fingers into her cleavage, and I swallowed hard, my eyes glued to the sight. When she took out a single key with no key chain, I held my hand out for it. The metal was warm from being nestled against her tit, the way my hand was itching to be.
I unlocked the door and entered with Presley still holding on to me. The house was dark, but there was enough moonlight coming in through the living room windows that I could see the short distance to the stairs. We reached the foot of them.
Flipping on the light over them, I said, “Can you make it up to bed?”
“Yep,” she said succinctly, determinedly.
She bent over to take her stilettos off and tumbled clumsily sideways until she sat on the second step, laughing.
I shook my head. “You’re a case,” I told her, grinning. “Sit still…if you can.”
I bent down in front of her and undid the tiny buckle on the strap around her ankle, slid the stilt off, then pulled her other foot up to do the same. Carrying the shoes in one hand, I held my other out for her, internally preparing myself for the upper floor I’d sworn not to return to.
We walked to her bedroom, and I went in with her, figuring it would be easier to pour her into bed than detach my arm at the doorway and hope she got across the room without keeling over. She collapsed onto the unmade bed, grabbing her pillow and curling up on her side on top of the mess of blankets.
Presley held out her hand, and I took it like a dumbass, unsure what she needed. When she yanked me toward the mattress, I caught myself with my other hand and laughed.
“I don’t think so, princess,” I said, straightening quickly before my willpower gave out. “I’m gonna get you a drink of water and some Tylenol. Then I’m leaving.”
“You’re sure?” she asked drowsily.
“I’m sure,” I said resolutely. “Do you have cups up here?”
“Office,” she said. “There’s a fridge.”
I found the minifridge, grabbed her a bottled water, then went to her bathroom and searched the cabinet for Tylenol. When I went back into her room, the first thing I noticed was the peach dress in a pile on the floor. I nearly groaned out loud. As I stepped closer, I spotted a smaller pile next to it of silver lace.
My gaze flipped to Presley, who’d pulled the pink comforter over her from the side. One leg stuck out, and the blanket dipped nearly low enough on her chest to reveal a nipple. Nearly. My mouth went dry with the realization she’d shed every stitch of her clothing.
“Good night, Presley,” I said.
She mumbled what almost sounded like good night.
“There’s a bottle of water and two Tylenol on your nightstand for when your head hurts.”
