Page 37 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, smiling down at me. “Hang on a minute—we’re nearly there.”
“Nearly where?” I blink, but all I can see is white ceiling.
“Your bedroom. I’m putting you to bed.”
“Why?” I ask through the fog. My brain is thick, and firing way too slow.
“Because you fell asleep on the sofa. Because you were snoring.”
“Oh, no,” I groan. “No.” The flush of humiliation clears the fog a little.
“It’s okay. It was kinda cute, to be honest.”
He comes to a halt, and I feel him hesitate as he fumbles at the door. How the hell he’s managing to support my weight with one arm when I’m nearly the same size as him I don’t know, but he doesn’t drop me on my head. His arm swoops back beneath me, and we move forward. I reach out and flick the switch as we pass; the room floods with light.
He sets me down on the edge of my bed, steadying me with hands on my shoulders as I sway slightly. The room spins just a touch, but not enough to mask how close he is, how his fingers feel warm through my thin jumper.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe how hard the alcohol hit me.” A tiny hiccup escapes, bringing a sour taste to my throat.
“Well, you did skip dinner.” He gently swipes a strand of hair away from my face. “Alcohol on an empty stomach. You’ll be wasted before you know it.”
He’s right; I skipped dinner so I could sneak upstairs to answer emails, then drank my bodyweight in samples. Fuck. I’m definitely a bit pissed.
“Yeah. Stupid.” I shake my head and grit my teeth as the room seesaws.
“You’ll feel better in the morning. Hopefully no hangover, so we can ride. Text me if you’re keen, yeah?”
Teddy starts to pull away, but I catch his wrist.
“Don’t go.”
He goes very still. “Rachel…”
“I mean it.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Stay with me, please?” I tug at his hand, wanting him closer. I’m so over dealing with the way he’s hedging around me. Teddy is in my room and damned if I’m going to let him leave, even if I have to beg.
For a moment, his resolve wavers. I see it in the way his eyes blacken and his gaze drops to my mouth. He takes a half-step closer, and my heart hammers against my ribs.
“You don’t know how much I want to,” he whispers, tracing his thumb across my lips. I inhale the nearness of him, the scent of him all vanilla and spice, and that unique musky maleness that I’ve missed so badly. “But not like this. Not when you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I’m not that drunk,” I protest, even as the room tilts when I lean towards him.
He snorts and huffs out a laugh. “You fell asleep mid-sentence downstairs. And then there was the snoring.”
“That’s not fair,” I mumble, heat rushing up my cheeks. No wonder he doesn’t want to stay. I must have looked a right picture.
“What’s not fair,” he says, crouching down to eye level, “is how beautiful you look right now, and how much I want you. I want to peel this right off you.” His long fingers brush the neck of my jumper. “And I’d love nothing more than to cup this in my hand.” His thumb traces a delicate, lazy spiral over my breast. My nipple swells under his touch, and I shiver. He trails a hand down my stomach and along my thigh, resting there, heat radiating from his palm right to my core. “And what I most want to do is rip these right off and see how you taste.” He runs a finger along the seam of myjeans, voice a low rasp. A shudder rolls through me. Then he pulls back. “But I won’t—not now. Because when I do, I want you to remember every second of it.” The certainty in his voice makes my breath catch.
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead instead, lingering just long enough to make me ache for more. “Now get some sleep. And text me in the morning if you want that ride. Goodnight Trouble.”
There it is again—Trouble. If anyone else said it, I’d object. From him, I let it slide with a sleepy smile.
He’s almost to the door when I call after him. “Teddy?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good man.”
