I touch her leg and rub my thumb over her bare skin, staring up at her. “I just want to help you, and make sure you’re not going to pass out. Is that okay?”
“I hate that I feel anything for you, Bash. But I do. Just promise me you won’t try to apologize or do anything stupid. I don’t want to hear it anymore. Help me get home, and then your good deed for the night is over, and we can call it even.”
Our faces are so close that the heat from her breath makes my body tingle. I want to kiss her. But I don’t want her to slap me for it.
“Sounds good. Let me get you in bed.”
She punches me in the arm. “You promised.”
“Not my bed,” I say, defensive. “I meant that I'd help you get into your bed.”
“Just so we’re clear, you’re not getting in it with me.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. What do you think I’m some pervert who takes advantage of sick girls?”
With her lips pulled tight, in a straight line that makes her demeanor unreadable, Tori confuses the fuck out of me. After a long pause, she breaks the silence with her laughter. “Don’t be so serious, Bash. I was joking. But not about you getting in bed with me. That’s non-negotiable.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” Women. This one, in particular, has always kept me on my toes. I hold out my arm to help Tori up from the toilet seat, and she accepts my offer, pushing herself up to her feet, as she holds onto me.
I’m concerned about her health. She has no idea how much worse things could get for her if she has even a slight concussion. Now, I feel even more responsible for her. Tori will need my help. And I will be there whenever she needs it.
Chapter 3
Tori
With our fingers interlocked and my head on his chest, I take in his manly scent and let Bash drag me down the street. I wanted to fight him, call it a night, but I like being around him. And I need his help getting home.
My head spins, the pain in my skull making me sick to my stomach. City blocks seem to go on for miles, and after we round a corner and walk to the end of the next street, I spot a McDonald’s that is open twenty-four hours. The growling in my stomach hasn’t let up since I puked up my lunch.
“Can we stop and get something to eat? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, of course,” he says, without hesitation, steering us in the direction of the fast food restaurant.
He opens the door and helps me inside. The lights blind me after being on the street for so long, wandering in the dark. The scent of french fries and burgers wafts through the
air, causing my stomach to growl.
After Bash orders for us, I collapse across from him in a booth by the window.
“How are you feeling?” Bash studies my face as if searching for something.
“Hungry,” I choke out. “Sick. Dizzy. Pick one.”
I prop my elbows on the table to support my head. My skull feels as though someone is drilling into it. The doctor had told me not to drink, but Bash makes me so angry and nervous, all at the same time, that I ignored the doctor’s instructions. It was a mistake I now regret.
He looks at me with his bright green eyes and those long dark lashes. Despite my concussed state, he still has an alarming effect on me. Heat creeps up the back of my neck and down my arms from his intense gaze. I should stop looking at him. But I can’t. He’s beautiful, if you can even say that about a man, but it’s the truth.
Bash is flawless and built to perfection as if designed with a specific intent. To kill me. Make my ovaries go into overdrive. Good thing I’m too sick to climb across the table and assault him. Because that’s what I want to do every time he locks onto me, holding me in his clutches.
When the man behind the counter signals our food is ready, Bash gets up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod, unsure why he's acting so weird. And nice. Bash doesn’t do nice. He just takes what he wants.
“Chicken nuggets and barbecue sauce,” he says when he comes back, setting the tray down in front of me.
“Don’t forget my fries.”
He chuckles and slides the fries next to my nuggets along with the sauce packets. “Here ya go, Queenie.”