Page 40 of Into These Eyes
“Everything’s spinning,” she whispers.
Shit. Here we go.
“You’d better hurry up and pee,” I tell her.
She looks up at me, the pressure of her fingers on my shoulders increasing. For the first time tonight, she doesn’t look happy. She looks humiliated.
“I don’t think I can get my undies down,” she slurs.
Oh, fuck.
And now I can literally see the colour draining from her face. I don’t have time to stop and think about how inappropriate this is. I’m just thankful she’s wearing a dress and not pants.
With her grip still firm on my shoulders, I drop to one knee, slip my hands beneath the hem of her dress and quickly glide them up the outside of her silky thighs. Christ, how I’d like to take my time, but for more than one reason, I don’t. When my fingers hook into the lacy underwear, I slide them down her thighs, my dick straining with the knowledge that she’s naked behind the thin material right in front of my face.
Once I’ve drawn her underwear down far enough, I stand up and grip her waist. “Sit,” I tell her, and her knees unlock.
Gently lowering her to the toilet, I place her hand on the vanity beside her so she can steady herself, and quickly help bunch her skirt into her lap. Now that’s out of the way, I discover her pale face has taken on a green tinge.
Scanning the bathroom, I spot a rubbish bin on the other side of the vanity, grab it and place it on her lap. She leans over it, hugging it with her free arm. Except for the tinkling coming from the toilet bowl, nothing happens.
That’s when I notice her underwear have migrated to her ankles. I try not to look at the lacy garment, but it’s impossible to miss the damp swatch of material resting between her feet.
Jesus Christ. My dick is so hard I’m sure it’d shatter into a million pieces if someone took a hammer to it.
So, shehadbeen telling the truth about being turned on. Doesn’t mean it had anything to do with me, of course. More likely a side effect of the alcohol.
She groans, yanking me back to reality right before she throws up into the bin.
Well, that brings my dick back under control.
There’s not much I can do for her except make sure she doesn’t topple off the toilet seat. My stomach doesn’t roil at the sounds of her retching. I’d heard much worse from my cell many, many times.
I grab a washcloth from the shower, douse it in cold water, wring it out and fold it. She lets out a small moan as I press it against her forehead. After a few moments of stillness, she turns her tear-streaked face up to mine.
“That feels better,” she mumbles.
“You think you can sit here for a little bit without falling off?”
She nods and I make sure she’s got a firm grip on the vanity beside her before I take the bin from her lap and hurry into the hallway.
It doesn’t take long to find the laundry. After placing the bin in the tub and reminding myself to deal with it later, I find a bucket and return to her.
While she still seems to be steady, I grab a large towel, head into her bedroom, and spread it over her pillow and down the side of the bed. She might think she feels better now, but that probably won’t last long.
When I re-enter the bathroom, I freeze. She’s wiped the streaks of mascara from her face, but that’s not what has mecaptivated. She’s let her hair down. It’s soft and wavy and flowing and messy. And it’s sexy as fuck. The dark, shiny tangles tumble almost to her waist. But it’s how it frames her face that has my lungs on strike. The deep red brings out the green on her eyes and softens her stunning bone structure.
My legs want to buckle.Gorgeousno longer carries enough weight when it comes to how she looks right now. It’s not just her beauty, it’s the utter vulnerability she’s letting me see.
“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to force a smile.
“Don’t …” I take a breath, reining in my reaction. “Don’t be sorry. I’m happy to be here for you.”
A shudder passes through her as she places the bucket on the floor, crosses her arms over her stomach and grips her waist. “No one, except for my mum, has ever taken care of me. Until now. Thank you.”
Tears pool in her eyes, then slip down her cheeks. She’s sobering up a little, which only serves to make her words sink deeper into my heart. No one’s ever done anything like this for her? How is that possible? I’d give my soul to be by her side whenever she needs me. Why hasn’t anyone snatched her up and given her everything she clearly deserves?
I move forward a few steps, take the washcloth from her fist and carefully wipe the tears from her exhausted face.
