Play With Me (With Me In Seattle)(7)By: Kristen Proby
“No time.” He shrugs. “No one has interested me, until very recently.” He mutters that last part, and before I can ask him what he means by that, he pulls up to my townhouse.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome. Stay there.”
I don’t think I could get out of this car if I wanted to. It sits really low to the ground, but it’s nice. The seat is comfortable.
Suddenly the passenger door is open and Will is leaning inside, pulling me out of the car. He gets me to stand, and then lifts me again.
“I could probably walk now.”
“I doubt it. Just don’t throw up on me, please.”
Well, I didn’t feel like throwing up until he said something. Now my stomach is rolling and I have that icky feeling in the back of my throat.
“Where are your keys?” he asks.
“Do you want me to get them?”
“Yes.” Just breathe. Just breathe and you won’t throw up.
“Okay, I’m going to stand you by the door. Just lean on the wall for a second.”
Is he speaking English? I don’t understand him, all I can concentrate on is not throwing up. He shuffles through my bag and produces my keys.
“This one.” I point to the house key and he unlocks the door and scoops me up again, carrying me inside.
“You don’t have an alarm system?” he asks with a frown.
“Why not?” he demands.
“Too expensive. Fuck, put me down.”
He lowers me to the floor and as soon as my feet hit the ground I sprint to the bathroom, and hurl about two bottles of tequila into the toilet.
It never tastes as good coming up as it did going down.
Oh, sweet Jesus, make it stop. My stomach convulses and shudders, and I feel a sweat break out on my skin.
Suddenly my hair is scooped back off my face and a cold cloth is pressed to the back of my neck.
Fuck, I forgot he was here. How mortifying.
“You can go,” I mumble and rest my forehead on my arm, still cradling the toilet.
“I’ll stay.” His voice is firm and maybe a little grim.
“I’m okay, Will.”
“I’m not leaving you like this, so shut it.” He gently lifts my head and presses another cold cloth to my forehead, making me moan in delight.
“That feels good.”
“I know. Are you done throwing up?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, let’s get you in bed.”
“Hey!” My head jerks up and I pin him with a glare. “You’re not getting me into bed.”
“Yeah, I am. Don’t worry, sweetheart, no hanky panky.” He grins and I groan as another wave of nausea hits. I’m suddenly bone-tired.
“Okay.” I stand and he wraps an arm awkwardly around my waist. He’s just too tall for his own good. “I’m fine, Will. The worst is over. You can go.”
He glares down at me and wipes my face with the cool cloth. “I’ll make sure you’re asleep before I leave.”
“Why? I haven’t exactly been nice to you.”
“Because I’m not an asshole, and the sooner you realize that, the better.”
I frown at him, not understanding him at all. He opens the drawers in my dresser, shuffling through clothes and socks, then turns to me with a scowl.
“Where are your pajamas?”
“I don’t wear pajamas.”
“So what do you wear to bed?” he asks and plants his hands on his hips.
He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, then searches through my drawers again until he finds an old t-shirt and throws it at me. “Here, put this on.”
“Because I’m climbing in that bed with you, and you can’t be naked or I will be an asshole.” He looks almost angry.
“Turn around,” I murmur. When he’s facing the other direction, I quickly unzip and step out of my dress and pull the t-shirt over my head. I’m not wearing panties, but the t-shirt is long enough that you can’t see so I don’t care. “I don’t think I can take my sandals off without falling over.”
Will turns to me and his eyes soften. “You look so young right now.”