The cab pulled around to the garage area. “This is where they like to be dropped off. He should have a key that fits that elevator over there, and his name should be on the inside next to the keyhole, telling you which floor he’s on. Good luck.”
I stared at the cabbie because: one, how did he know this, and two, I had no intention of taking him any further than the elevator. I opened his wallet and thumbed through his money. I shook my head at the fact he only had several one-hundred-dollar bills. I took out a one-hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. “Keep the change.” I winked.
A large smile swept across his face. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“Don’t mention it. You can thank him next time.”
I opened the door and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the cab. I put his arm over my shoulder and walked him to the elevator. He kept stumbling and almost taking me down with him. I searched his pocket for his keys. It was that awkward moment when I put my hand in his side pocket and felt something semi hard that wasn’t his keys. I pushed the button on the elevator, and he looked at me.
“You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m going to fuck you really hard,” he said as he grabbed my ass. I sighed and removed his hand from my behind. “Only in your dreams, sweetie. Only in your dreams…”
The elevator opened. I escorted him inside and looked at the different keys on his key ring, wondering which one fit the elevator. I turned to him as he was leaning up against the back of the elevator. “Can you please show me which key goes in here.” He flashed me a drunken smile and seductively took the key ring from me, picked a key, and held it up to me. “Thank you.” I smiled.
I inserted the key into the lock next to his name and it took us up to the top floor. The elevator doors opened to the biggest and most beautiful penthouse that I’d ever seen. Okay, it was the only penthouse that I’d ever seen, but it was still beautiful. My full intention was to lean him up against the wall and leave. I had assumed he would pass out on the floor and wake up in the morning, but that was until he looked at me and said he was going to be sick. I rolled my eyes, and I asked him to take me to his bedroom as I figured that would get his attention real quick. He pointed to the stairs, and I held on to him, trying to hold him up as he tripped up each step. We finally made it to the top and I saw a bathroom on the left. He didn’t make it; he vomited all over his clothes. I shook my head, for this was a sight that was all too familiar to me.
I hurried him to the bathroom, where he leaned over and hugged the porcelain of god for a good hour. I stood there, admiring the beauty of his bathroom. The taupe walls and black granite countertops gave it a classic but luxurious look.
I found a washcloth and ran it under lukewarm water. I walked over to him as he sat against the wall with his head down. He smelled like vomit, and I had to get him to change his clothes.
“Come on, buddy; let’s see if we can get you changed.” I put his arm around me and, with a little help from him, I lifted him off the floor. We made it down the hallway to his bedroom. I opened the double doors that led inside and gasped; his bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment. I took him over to the king-size bed and sat him down.
“Are you an angel?” he slurred as he gently rubbed my cheek. His skin felt warm, and his touch felt nice—too nice—as it gave me tiny goose bumps.
I took his hand away. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
He drunkenly smiled and fell back on the bed. I knew it was going to take some work trying to get his clothes off, but I couldn’t let him sit in his own vomit all night. I took his shoes and socks off first. I climbed on top, so I was straddling him, and unbuttoned his shirt, rolling him from side to side, taking his arms out. It probably would have been easier to take his shirt off in the bathroom, but I hadn’t thought about that. I moved down to the button on his pants. Oh god, I can’t believe I’m doing this. My thought was to let him lie there and sleep it off, but his pants had received the worst of his vomit, and he genuinely smelled. I unbuttoned his pants and lifted his hips so that I could pull them off. It was a struggle, but I finally managed.
I couldn’t help but look at his sculpted body as he lay there almost perfectly naked and only in his black silk boxers. I was only human, right? He was lean, muscular, and perfectly defined from head to toe. I felt dirty standing over his passed out body and checking him out, but no one should ever look that perfect; it’s just not right. I needed to move him up to his pillow. I put the cool cloth on his head, and he stirred. I grabbed under his arms and pulled him up the best I could. I turned him on his side in case he vomited again, and a slight groan came from his mouth. I found a blanket in the corner of his room and covered him with it. I sighed and looked at the clock on the nightstand; it read 1:00 a.m.
I was exhausted and desperately needed some sleep. It was then I realized I never told Peyton that I was leaving the club. I ran down the stairs and grabbed my purse off the table. I took out my phone and saw a text message from her.
“Frankie told me what you’re doing, and I know you like to play Good Samaritan, but I’m worried, so text me.”
I quickly replied, “I’m fine; I managed to get him home, and he’s passed out on his bed. I’m heading home now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I stood in the hallway and looked at the stairs. Memories were flooding my mind as I had to walk back to his room to check on him one last time. He had rolled on his back, so I rolled him back on his side. His bed was so comfortable that I decided to sit next to him to make sure he stayed on his side the rest of the night and maybe get a little bit of sleep.
***
I awoke from a dream that I had about my father. I quickly sat up, but my brain hadn’t fully registered where I was. I scanned the room and looked over at Connor, who was sleeping peacefully. I shook my head in disbelief that I had fallen asleep for so long as I made my way to the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face and downed some mouthwash I found in his cabinet. I ran my fingers through my hair and headed downstairs. I should have just left right then and there, but I needed coffee and so would Connor when he woke up.
I walked to the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks. The mahogany cabinets topped with dark gray granite counter tops were utterly stunning. A large, curved island sat in the middle of the kitchen with a built-in stove on one side. Three stainless steel ovens were also built in opposite the other wall. I found what I needed and made a pot of coffee. I knew a recipe for a hangover cocktail that I used to make my dad every day. I scanned the kitchen, and surprisingly enough, it had everything that I needed to make one. I had my back turned to the doorway, making the hangover cocktail, when I heard someone clear their throat. I was startled, and I slowly turned around.
He stood in the middle of the kitchen in a pair of black pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips, outlining his muscular form. I gulped at the sight of him standing there, hung over and still looking as incredible as he had last night. He looked at me and cocked his head to one side.
“Did I not go over the rules with you last night?”
“Huh?” I frowned.
“I don’t do sleepovers. You were supposed to leave after I fucked you, so would you mind telling me why you’re still here, in my kitchen, making yourself comfortable?”
His tone was arrogant and crude; obviously, he didn’t remember anything from last night, but I didn’t expect he would. His green eyes looked dark and angry, but he’d have to get over it; I didn’t have time for this. I set the glass with the hangover drink on the counter and slid it to him. He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Listen, buddy. I don’t know what you think happened last night, but you didn’t fuck me! I would never give you the pleasure; trust me.” Okay, I was lying; I would have given him the pleasure, but he didn’t need to know that. He cocked his head and stared at me, narrowing his eyes.
“You drank yourself into oblivion at the club last night, and they kicked you out. I was walking outside when it happened, and being the good person I am, I called a cab to make sure you got home safely. You then proceeded to vomit all over yourself, so I had to get you to the bathroom and out of your clothes, because frankly, you smelled.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I was on my way out the door when I decided to check on you one more time. I went back to your room, and you were lying on your back, so I rolled you on your side again in case you vomited; I wouldn’t have wanted you to choke to death.” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “I fell asleep from exhaustion after dealing with you, and when I woke up, I decided to make you a pot of coffee and a hangover cocktail. I was leaving in a few minutes, and I didn’t expect you to be up for at least a few more hours.”
He took a few steps closer. “So, you’re telling me nothing happened between us?” I rolled my eyes. Didn’t this man listen to a word I just said?
“No, nothing happened. I just needed to make sure you were going to be okay. You were obnoxiously drunk.” I looked down.
“What is this?” he asked as he picked up the glass.
“Just drink it, and you should start to feel better in about fifteen minutes. I’ll pour you some coffee and be on my way.”
I started to feel a little dizzy as I reached for a mug, and it slipped out of my hands, crashing to the floor.
“Fuck,” I said as I bent down to pick up the broken pieces.
“Hey, you’re going to cut yourself.” He walked over to me and bent down.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head and picking up the broken porcelain.
“Stop,” his voice commanded.
His voice was startling, but I didn’t listen because it was my mess, and I was going to clean it up. He grabbed my hands and turned them over, taking the broken pieces out of them. Our eyes met when he saw the scars on my wrists. I pulled back quickly and stood up. He continued to pick up the pieces. I took my purse from the counter.
“I’m sorry for the mug; I’ll replace it for you, and I hope you feel better.” I turned and headed out the kitchen.
“Wait,” I heard him say.
I turned around and looked at him. “At least let me pay you for your trouble last night.”
“I’m not taking your money, and it was no trouble.” Okay, it was, but he was alive, and I felt better knowing that I had probably saved his life.
He rolled his eyes. “Then at least have a cup of coffee before you go.” I sighed. I seriously needed it, and one cup wouldn’t hurt.
“Fine, one cup and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
He walked back to the kitchen and put the cup on the island. He drank his cocktail and frowned the entire time. It was fun to watch the disgusted look on his face. He leaned over the counter and looked at me.
“Why on earth would you help me like that? What if I was a rapist or murderer?”
I laughed. “You couldn’t rape or murder me even if you wanted to. You were so far gone last night, I could barely get you home.” He ran one hand through his hair.
“You shouldn’t be doing those kinds of things; it’s not safe in this city for a girl to be doing shit like that.” He seemed agitated.
I leaned my elbow on the counter, rested my hand on my cheek, and looked at him intently as he lectured me. He stopped what he was saying and narrowed his eyes at me.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I laughed as I got up from the stool. “Thanks for the coffee, but I need to get home.” I grabbed my purse and started walking out of the kitchen. “Have a lovely day, Mr. Black, and next time, don’t drink so much.” I could hear his footsteps following behind.
“Would you mind telling me your name?” The elevator doors opened. I stepped in and turned to face him.
“It’s Ellery Lane!” I yelled as the door began to close.