Redeem Me: Oakville Series:Book Four (8 page)

“Oh, what hot dreams they would be,” he quips. I laugh, but deep inside, my body heats at the thought of him lying next to me. Quickly, I shake the steamy thought away and get him a pillow and blanket. When I return to the couch, he’s looking a little green.

“Angel, are you okay?” I question. His eyes widen and he shakes his head as he jumps to his feet, covers his mouth, and bolts toward the bathroom. I follow close behind. He barely makes it to the toilet before expelling all the alcohol he’s consumed. My stomach begins to churn, but I can’t leave him alone like this. I wet a cloth and place it on the back of his neck, hoping to give him some relief.

I stand there, helpless, until he finally stops. As he sits back against the wall, I notice he’s gotten puke on himself. I should leave him in his soiled clothes to teach him a lesson, but he looks so pitiful and helpless. I reach over and turn on the shower. Angel’s head lifts up and he grins. “I do like it wet,” he slurs. I shake my head and giggle.

“It’s not for us, it’s for you. Can you get undressed by yourself?” I ask, and then groan, knowing I set myself up for another comeback.

“It would be much more fun if you did it for me.” I start to walk out as he stands up. When he falls back against the wall, I know I’m going to be the one undressing him. I wouldn’t want him to hurt himself. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself to justify stripping him down. My stomach churns just from looking at the vomit-splattered clothing. I can’t believe what I’m about to do. I walk toward him and he’s sporting the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. The ass knows exactly what he’s doing.

Taking a deep breath, I begin to undress him. He doesn’t put up a fight. In fact, he seems to be enjoying this way too much. The putrid smell turns my stomach and I hold my breath. When I get down to his jeans, my hands start to tremble. I can’t believe I’m about to see him naked. Maybe I’ll just take off his jeans and throw him in the shower in his skivvies. I undo his belt, then unbutton his jeans. The further I go, the hotter this room seems to get and the wider his smile is. I grab hold of the zipper and slowly pull it down while trying to look at his face and not my hands. I slide his jeans down over his hips and bend to pull them off his legs. I’m shocked when his cock is in my face, standing at full attention. Shit. I wasn’t expecting him to be going commando. Like a car wreck, I can’t take my eyes off it.

“See something you like, sweet pea?” Angel says seductively. In a flash, I’m on my feet, pulling him toward the shower. He gets in and leans against the wall. “There’s plenty of room in here for you. You may need to hold it...I mean, me, steady,” he jokes as I slam the shower door closed. It’s taking every ounce of will power I have not to strip down and get in there with him. I keep picturing him naked, the hot water running down his chest to his massive...uh, I need to stop. I find a new toothbrush in the cabinet, add toothpaste to it, and hand it over to him. He brushes his teeth then hands it back.

In a quiet voice, he says, “I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” I ask. He sounds so sweet and innocent at this moment, there’s no way I could be mad at him. Besides, he just gave me quite the picture to store in my head to keep me happy for a very long time.

“Because I’m drunk and puking in your bathroom. I didn’t mean to ruin your night,” he says in a whisper. No matter what he wants people to think, I know, deep down, he’s a sweet and caring guy. He can’t hide it from me.

“I’m not mad at you, Angel. I just wish you’d talk to me and tell me why you push me away even though it seems like you want me.” I hear him groan, then a loud bang. Scared he has fallen, I yank open the shower door to find him banging his head against the tile. He turns to face me and I can’t help but look down. My face heats when I see his flag raise to full mast. Wow. What made him get so excited? Me looking at him? I’m unable to look away, picturing in my mind the things I’d like to do with it.

“Have you changed your mind about joining me?” he asks playfully. I can’t seem to speak or take my eyes off his hard...body. The man is built like a Greek god. All I can do is shake my head no. “Too bad. Can I have a towel?” With my jaw dragging against the floor, I hand him a towel and pry my eyes away from him. Suddenly shy, I turn around. I can hear him stumble a few times as he attempts to dry off. “You can turn around now. It’s covered.” Thank God. I’m about to combust from trying to keep my hands off him.

He starts to walk to the living room and almost falls over. Still nowhere near sober, I’m worried he’ll get sick again. I try to think of a way to avoid him making a mess if that happens. Since the bathroom is a lot closer to my bedroom, I decide to let him sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch. Putting my arm around his waist, I lead him to my room.

“I like where this is going, sweet pea.” He chuckles and I smack him in the stomach.

“Not what you think. You can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. If you get sick, the bathroom is close,” I state firmly.

“I can’t let you do that. I promise to stay on my side. You can even put a pillow barrier between us,” he says as he draws a cross over his heart with his finger. I guess it can’t hurt. He’ll pass out in no time anyway. Besides, I have a need to be close to him. To feel his warm, hard body close to mine. I help him to the bed and lay him down. Grabbing some yoga pants and a t-shirt, I go to the bathroom to change.

When I come back into the room, Angel’s lying flat on the bed with his arm over his eyes. Quietly, I walk to his side and pull the comforter over him. It startles him and he jumps. I turn to walk away, but he grabs my arm.

“I really am sorry about everything. The drinking, the smart ass comments I made, and most of all, for walking out after you opened up to me,” he says, his eyes radiating sincerity.

“You’re forgiven. Now, let’s get some sleep.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. Before I can move away, he takes my face in his hands and crashes his lips to mine. Goose bumps break out all over and heat spreads from my toes to my head. He breaks the kiss all too quickly. Still holding my face, he stares into my eyes.

“The only girl I’ve ever loved was taken from me because I fucked up like I always seem to do. And now I’m doing it with you, too,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Before I can ask him what girl, his eyes close and his hands fall to his sides. Of course, he passes out now. Right when he’s finally starting to open up. I try lightly shaking him, but it’s no use. He’s down for the count.

As I crawl into bed, my mind races. I roll over resting on my side to watch Angel. The moonlight is shining through the window enough to illuminate his handsome face. He looks peaceful. His lips are parted slightly as he softly snores. My eyes begin to feel heavy. I drift off to sleep still wondering about this girl and how he fucked up, hoping I’ll eventually get the answers I want.

Angel

M
y head is pounding like a jackhammer. I slowly open my eyes, see Chelsie sleeping soundly beside me, and sit up in a panic. The room spins with the fast motion as my stomach churns. I lay back against the pillow trying to stop the spins. Looking around the room, there’s nothing I recognize. What have I done? No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember anything that happened last night. I lift the comforter, finding a towel wrapped around my hips. Please tell me I didn’t get drunk and take advantage of her. I groan as a sick feeling comes over me.

“How ya feeling this morning, boozy?” Chelsie asks in a sleepy voice.

“How did I get here?”

“I tried to take you home but you couldn’t find your keys so I brought you here,” she explains. The more she tells me about last night, the more mortified I become. I haven’t been that drunk in a very long time. I do, however, remember the nasty comments I made to her earlier in the night. The fact that she took care of me after all of that says a lot about her.

“We didn’t, um...do anything, did we?” I ask hesitantly, terrified of her answer. She looks offended by my question and I don’t want her taking this the wrong way. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to. It’s just that your first time should be special. Not with a drunk asshole like me. It should be with someone you love, someone who loves you back,” I say, feeling proud of my recovery. But looking at the expression on her face, I have a feeling I just dug myself further into a hole.

“You drive me insane!” she yells, throwing her hands in the air. “You want everyone to think you’re this heartless asshole when you clearly aren’t.” She sits up in the bed, and I adjust my head, looking up to see her. I can tell she’s gearing up to give me hell. Normally, I wouldn’t let a woman yell at me, but this woman yelling at me causes my dick to twitch. “Perfect example, ‘your first time should be special’. That’s not an asshole thing to say. An asshole would take advantage of the willing girl in front of him. He’d throw her on the bed and fuck the shit out of her,” she exclaims.

“Is that an invitation, sweet pea?” I ask. I just can’t help myself. When her face turns red with anger, I realize joking right now was a really bad move. I’m half expecting smoke to start billowing out of her ears.

“For once, can you just be honest and serious with me?” she looks aggravated, not that I blame her. I do tend to joke at inappropriate times. “What happened to you to put that ginormous chip on your shoulder?” Her eyes are pleading, asking me to let go and open myself up to her. She has no idea how I wish I could, but there’s just something in me that won’t allow it. Jumping from the bed, she begins pacing the room, her hands clenching at her sides. “Who was this girl you mentioned last night?” At her words, I swallow hard and tense. My blood pounds in my ears and I feel my face get hot. What the hell did I say? I will myself to calm down. To ease the anxiety racking my system. I may not have said anything. She could be assuming, thinking someone had to make me this way. She could be lying, manipulating the situation, using my lack of memory to her advantage. I let out a calming breath, feeling marginally better, even though I know I’m lying to myself. Chelsie’s too sweet to be manipulative, but I’m not ready for everyone to know about Katie. I’m just getting used to being a part of a family. That will all change when they know what I did.

“What girl? I don’t remember saying anything,” I finally say, hoping she drops it. No such luck.

“Before you passed out, you said the only girl you ever loved was taken away because you fucked up. What girl? What did you fuck up?”
Note to self: no more over indulging in alcohol
.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweet pea. The only person I’ve ever loved is myself. I was pretty fucked up last night. I was probably just trying to get in your pants.” There, that should piss her off enough to drop it.

She storms over to the bed, her face on fire, her hands balled into fists. I tense for a second, thinking she may end up knocking my ass out. Getting right in my face, she pokes my chest with her finger in beat with every word. “At the very least, I thought we were friends, which I am more than happy with. But, until you wise up and see we are here for you no matter what, that you can tell us anything and it won’t change how much we love you, you will always be alone,” she thunders at me, and has me cowering on the bed. She’s right. But the fear of them judging me as harshly as I do myself is too great. “You still aren’t going to tell me a damn thing, are you?”

I can’t. I’m not ready for her and everyone else to see the monster I see every day in the mirror. I look into her eyes, knowing this is going to be the end of anything that could’ve been between us. But this is the way it has to be—for her sake and my sanity. “No, sweet pea, I’m not. There’s nothing to tell.” I try to keep my voice even so she can’t sense how hard this is for me. She swiftly looks away from me, but not before I catch her tearing up. Stomping over to her dresser, she rips out clothes from the drawers. When she finally turns to face me, the hurt in her eyes sends a razor-sharp pain straight to my heart.