Chapter Seventeen

Riley

Lena's drunk.

I know it the moment I step into the dining room.

Not only do I see the empty bottle of Chardonnay on the table and the half-filled glass in Lena's fingers. I can also see the alcohol in her cheeks, redder than usual, and in the gloss of her eyes that are threatening to disappear beneath her eyelids.

And here I thought she didn't drink.

With a frown, I walk over to her and snatch the glass in her hands away.

"Hey," she protests with a slur.

But it's too late. I'm already gulping down what's left of the wine.

Lena scowls. "That was my wine."

I set down the empty glass. "I think you've had quite enough."

She snorts. "So not only am I not allowed to go outside or make a call, I'm not allowed to drink, either?"

"I didn't say that," I tell her. "Drinking is fine as long as you don't go beyond your limits. Clearly, you don't know yours."

She laughs. "But I only drank one bottle."

I glance at it. I bet her limit is a glass.

"How did you even find that bottle of wine?"

She grins and holds an unsteady finger to her lips. "It's a secret."

I let out a sigh, then go over to her and grab her arm. "Come on. I'm taking you to your room."

"Don't touch me." She pulls her arm away and gets on her feet, staggering a little. "Who do you think you are, huh? You think you're so hot? Or so awesome?"

"I'm your husband," I remind her.

She laughs. "You're just a jerk and a coward."

I draw a deep breath as I let go of the insult. "You're drunk."

"So?" She leans on the table as she loses her balance.

I step forward to try and help her but she just pokes her finger at my chest.

"What do you care? You don't care. So don't pretend that you do. You're good at pretending. I know you are. But I'm not falling for it anymore. I told you. I'm not falling for you anymore."

I glance at her feet. "You are going to fall soon, though, if you don't let me help you to your room."

"I'm not going to do what you say anymore." Lena shakes her head. "I may be a woman, but I have my own mind. I'm my own person. I deserve respect."

I narrow my eyes at her. How can she talk about respect when she's so drunk she can't speak clearly or stand upright?

"You can take away my freedom but you can't take away my soul," she goes on. "I'm going to do whatever it is I want from now on."

I frown. "Are you saying you're going to be an alcoholic from now on? That you're not just refusing to act as my wife but that you're not going to behave at all?"

"Exactly," she answers with a grin. "Why should I behave?"

"Because you're an adult."

She laughs.

I usually love her laughter, but seriously, I'm getting annoyed. This conversation is getting frustrating. And exhausting. I'm already tired enough from work. I don't want to deal with this right now.

I grab her arm once more. "Let's go upstairs."

"What are you going to do, huh?" Lena sneers as she looks up at me. "Are you going to punish me for being a bad girl? Are you going to lock me up in my room, Mr. Riley Boyle McAllister?"

My jaw clenches. Is she tempting me?

God knows I've been aching to touch her since she came to live here, and now that she's looking at me with those eyes...

They narrow as she gives me a wicked grin. "You can't do anything, can you?"

That's it. I've held back long enough.

I place my hand on the back of her head and bring my lips to hers. I ignore her small whimper and push my tongue inside her mouth, tasting more of the fruity, earthy hints of the alcohol she's just been indulging herself in.

Lena squirms. Her arm struggles against my hold as she places a hand on my chest, trying to push me away. But she's too weak. Instead, she ends up clutching my shirt as she loses her balance again.

That's what she gets for drinking more than she can handle.

And this is what she gets for provoking me.

I push her down on top of the table and kiss her harder. The empty bottle falls. She fights me a little more, though half-heartedly, and then her moans of protests turn into sounds of pleasure. The arms trying to push me away wrap around me. Her hands travel across my back. When her tongue pushes mine back, heat travels all the way to my groin and my cock hardens inside my boxers.

Fuck. I haven't had a woman since I left her, and now all my pent-up frustration is fueling the desire that's burning through my veins. I don't think I could hold back even if I wanted to.

I move my mouth to Lena's neck as I slip my hand beneath her shirt. She gasps for air. My fingers crawl towards her breasts. They brush against the edge of her bra and I push it up so that my palm can cup her breast instead. She moans as her nipple stiffens against my skin.

I nibble on her neck and shoulder as I play with the nub. Her nails pierce cotton and dig into my back.

I lower my head to take her other breast into my mouth after peeling her shirt up. Her hands move to the back of my head.

I circle her nipple with my tongue as I keep the other one trapped between my fingers. She shivers. I suck on one breast as I rub the peak of the other and her fingers pull on my hair. Her gasps and moans spill into the air.

As I move even lower, I catch the scent of her arousal and it makes my nostrils flare. My cock rages against its cotton confines.

I pull her pants and underwear off and bury my head between her legs. I rub my tongue against her clit and drag it down to the folds of her drenched opening, tracing them before plunging in between. She lets out a cry as her nails rake my scalp.

I ignore the sting as I lap up the sweet nectar oozing out of her. My cock leaks in response. Then I travel back up and capture her lips with her taste still on my tongue. She moans.

Maybe it's because she's drunk, but she's moaning more loudly, more freely. Her hands grip my shoulders.

As I kiss her, I unfasten my belt and pull down the zipper of my pants. I take my aching cock out of my boxers and break the kiss so I can grip her thighs. I pull them towards the edge of the table and position myself between them, then enter her as slowly as I can.

Lena holds my gaze at first, but as I continue to push inside her, she closes her eyes and throws her head to the side. Her nails scrape the surface of the table.

I stop once I'm halfway in, then pull out and enter her with one thrust. She throws her head back against the wood.

I clench my jaw as I begin moving in her tight, velvety passage. I guess that tightness means she hasn't been with anyone else, and the thought sends fresh ripples of excitement through my veins. But damn, she's incredibly tight.

Eventually, the passage loosens as it gets flooded with warmth. I begin pounding into Lena and the table rocks. The empty bottle rolls away.

Suddenly, she grabs my tie as she lifts her head. She pulls my face towards hers, her mouth engaging mine in a passionate kiss.

I wonder if this is another effect of her being drunk. If so, it might not be all that bad.

Just as abruptly as Lena started the kiss, she pulls away. Her arms cling to me as her body shivers. Her head falls back as she lets out a cry.

I pause as she tightens around me and rides the throes of her orgasm. Then she drops to the table once more. I continue moving in and out of her, managing a few more thrusts before my muscles begin to coil. I bury myself deep inside her as my cock erupts. My body trembles.

Afterwards, I stay still as I catch my breath. Lena continues to gasp beneath me. After I pull out, she lifts her legs onto the table and rolls onto her side. When I'm done fixing my clothes, I realize she's asleep.

I let out a sigh. I guess this is what I get for fucking someone who's drunk. Then again, I'm starting to get sleepy, too.

I manage to stay awake long enough to carry her and her clothes up to her room. I set her down on the bed and pull the sheets up to her chin. Then I brush the strands of hair pasted to her cheeks and plant a kiss on her forehead.

Lena doesn't move. Her eyes remain closed as she breathes softly.

She looks so good and innocent, in sharp contrast to how reckless and defiant she was a short while ago. Then again, maybe that was just the effect of the alcohol. It's the first time she got drunk, after all.

I glance at the bedside table.

Maybe I should have something ready for her first hangover.