He leaned his head against the old seats and gritted; his teeth, trying not to imagine her head in his lap for reasons other than drunken exhaustion. A futile effort since the images still came-her curly hair brushing his stomach and bare thighs and her warm, moist, lush mouth closing over his aching member. He exhaled a slow, loud groan, not caring if the cabdriver heard.
From her place in his lap, Micki muttered something he couldn't make out, nor did he care. He couldn't focus on anything except the vibration of the car beneath him and Micki's lips an inch away from his cock. With the next pothole and bump in the road, Damian decided chivalry was way overrated. He wasn't a guy used to denying Himself basic needs. Hell, he'd never had a reason.
But he did now, he reminded himself. Because no way did he plan on doing anything more. He'd bring Micki safely upstairs and watch over her until the stupor passed.
They finally reached the hotel. He carried her from the cab up to her room, not an easy feat with both late-night guests and bellmen staring at the sight.
Once in the room, he focused on the necessities. With jaw clenched, he changed her clothes, managing to do no more than skim her curves with his hands, and look through half-shut eyes as he pulled off the dress and replaced it with a shirt he found in her drawer.
Micki was so exhausted, she didn't attempt another seduction and he was grateful. He was even more pleased when he finally laid her beneath the covers for the night.
By the time Damian poured himself a glass of whiskey from the minibar and eased into a club chair next to the double bed, he was exhausted. The chair wouldn't be comfortable, but he settled in for a long night.
He knew better than to crawl into that bed. Lying beside Micki on the small mattress would provide too much temptation for a saint. And despite his restraint tonight, Damian had never claimed to be one of those.
CHAPTER FOUR
MICKI AWOKE, painfully aware she wanted to die but not until after she killed Ricky Carter. The last thing she remembered about her night was Carter telling her he'd turned her iced teas into the more potent Long Island kind. The first thing she recalled this morning was a mouth full of cotton and a headache the likes of which she'd never felt before. Drums beat in her skull and she lay in bed unable to move, let alone rise and get a glass of water or Tylenol.
"Here. Take this."
She forced her dry, heavy eyelids open and saw a glass of water and two pills in a large masculine hand. "Damian."
Just like that, highlights of last night came back to her in mortifying, vivid detail. She'd stripped in the bar, been carried out in Damian's arms and, as thanks, she'd attempted to seduce him in the cab.
Oh my God. She would have rolled over and hid in embarrassment except she needed that water desperately. When she sat up too quickly, dizziness hit her hard and she fell back against the pillow, each movement causing pain of a different kind.
"Easy." He helped her to an upright position and she gratefully swallowed the pills, gulping the liquid fast.
"Thank you." She kept her eyelids shut tight, more out of mortification than need. "I'm guessing you brought me back to…where are we anyway?"
"We're in your hotel room. I figured you wouldn't mind me invading your privacy to find your key card if it meant you didn't have to spend the night in my room. And you're welcome."
"You're quite the gentleman," she said wryly. "What time is it anyway?"
"A little after noon."
The camp. Her job. Panic assaulted her. Her eyes shot open and she bolted up, or at least she tried to, but Damian had anticipated her reaction and placed his hands on her shoulders to hold her down.
Her eyes darted around the room. "I'm late for work, you're late for the camp. We have to get moving." But even as she argued, her pounding head and the waves of nausea clearly told her she wasn't going anywhere at the moment.
"Sophie's handling everything," he said, as he loosened his grip on her shoulders.
Sophie had flown down to Florida? She eased back against the pillows and finally turned her heavy-lidded gaze to Damian.
Even in a rumpled, razor-stubbled state he was the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on, while she probably looked worse than roadkill. So much for all of Sophie's lessons and hard work.
"How did Sophie get here in time?” Micki asked.
He rose and walked barefoot across the carpet to the window where he'd thoughtfully kept the shades drawn. "I called her late last night. And before you say another word, how much of last night do you remember?"
Micki narrowed her gaze. If she claimed not to remember the kiss, would he continue to pretend it had never happened? Could that be what he’d done the last time, when he'd been the one drunk and out of control? If so, she could definitely understand his perspective better now that she'd walked in his shoes. But she had no intention of handling the situation the same way. Denial wasn't Micki's style but since it apparently was Damian's, she wouldn't rush into dealing with what had happened last night
Besides she needed some time to clear her own head as well. She carefully wiggled farther up in bed, keeping her pounding head braced against pillows. "I remember going downstairs to join the team for a bite to eat. I hadn't had anything much all day and my stomach was pretty empty. I ordered iced tea and ate the spicy appetizers and guzzled my drink. I found out later Carter had them spiked and ordered two of them."
A muscle ticked in Damian's jaw, his anger barely concealed.
"There's no love lost between you two, huh?" Micki asked.