I nod my head, glancing back at him. “Drugs, Rafe? Really? Did you watch Goodfellas and think, ‘Hey, I need to be more like Henry Hill?’”
Lifting his eyebrows, he says, “Hey, that’s a great movie.”
“It is a great movie. Drugs are stupid.” Holding up the mirror, I tell him, “This is stupid. You are better than this.”
“Juanita would kick my ass,” he informs me.
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Hey, you kicked out my date,” he suddenly realizes, looking at the closed door.
“I did. I don’t think you should see her again. She’s terrible.”
“Why is she terrible?” he inquires. “Did you see her ass? Not terrible.”
I groan, rolling my eyes at him and standing. “You’re high. A nice ass is no reason to go home with a crackwhore. Come on, stand up. Where’s your bedroom?”
“I’m just saying, she had a nice ass,” he mutters, pushing up off the ground.
“Yes, it was amazing. I’m going to write poetry about it as soon as I get home.”
“I need a drink,” he tells me. “This is going to wear off soon.”
I shake my head. “You’ve altered your mind enough for one night. How about a shower?” I suggest, seeing as he smells like a brothel.
“You coming in with me?” he teases.
My face flushes. “Certainly not. I have to dispose of your drug paraphernalia.”
“This is a step above your pay grade,” he informs me, nonetheless following me out of the sex room and into the hallway.
“Did you drive yourself here like this?” I ask him, visualizing the parking job that first set me to worrying.
He doesn’t answer me.
I look back over my shoulder, one expectant eyebrow already raised.
He shoots me the most lethal puppy dog face anyone has ever delivered. My heart explodes in a puff of dust and my knees legitimately weaken. Good god, this man. It shouldn’t be possible to be so sexy and endearing when you’re such a hot mess. He’s high on cocaine, and I’m wondering what he does with that sex furniture.
I can look it up later.
“Come on, you rogue,” I mutter, leading him down the hall. “Promise me you will never get behind the wheel like this again. In fact, promise me you’ll never do something this stupid again, period, because this is so fucking stupid, it makes me angry.”
“Oh no, I don’t want to make you angry,” he teases.
“You don’t,” I tell him, with far more bravado than I actually warrant. “I’ll kick your ass if I ever find out you’ve done anything like this again.”
“I’d like to see that,” he tells me, his voice laced heavily with amusement. “I’ll overpower you and tie your little ass up, but feel free to try.”
My face is already hot with a combination of anger, concern, and embarrassment, but since he’s given me the opening, I go ahead and explore my own curiosity. “So… what was that room, exactly?”
“My play room.”
My face grows even hotter. “Play room, huh?” I hesitate, wondering if I should ask more. Will he remember this tomorrow? I’ve never done drugs, so I have no idea how this works. “What do you like to play?”
“Want a demonstration?” he asks.
Oh, God. Yes, I sort of do, but no way, not like this. I shake my head, not asking any further questions.