"I don't want to go real estate shopping, for fuck's sake," I said. I was holding a protein shake so tightly in my hands I almost crushed it.
"We're not going until tomorrow. Relax."
"I can't relax," I grunted. "I'm hungover, Eric. Really fucking hungover."
"So am I," Eric said, but his complexion looked too healthy for that to be true.
"Why don't you look as bad as I feel?" I asked suspiciously.
"Because I took painkillers last night. And I threw up this morning," Eric said smugly.
"Lucky." I sat down and winced. My muscles were sore from lifting, and my head was killing me.
"How about you?" Eric asked suspiciously. "You sleep okay?"
I had no intention of telling him that I'd slept with Avery. It had been a mistake—one that was never going to happen again—and it was none of his business. "If you call passing out sleeping, I guess so."
I yawned and felt Eric studying me. "What?" I snapped.
"Nothing." He shrugged. "Do you want to discuss the table dancing? Or the body shot? Or…anything else?"
I scrubbed my hands over my face. "There's nothing to discuss."
My agent smiled at me. "If you say so."
I headed to my room to take a shower. "You're seriously in too good of a mood to be around when I'm this hung. Ugh. Stay away from me."
"My pleasure," he called.
I grunted again and then headed down the hallway. Avery popped out of her room, her hair soaking wet. She took one look at me, yelped, and jumped back inside her room, slamming the door.
I couldn't help it. Nasty headache aside, I laughed. And then knocked on her door. "Avery."
"Mm-hmm?" she answered, trying to sound casual from inside her room.
"Do you need something?"
"No," she said immediately, and I knew it was a lie.
"Why'd you come out here, then?" I wanted to help her, but more than that, I wanted to see her. I needed to know that she was okay.
She opened the door a crack and miserably peered out at me. "I just wanted another towel. I thought I had more in here, but I don't." She looked as if she were about to cry.
"I'll get you one," I said. "It'll just take a sec."
I hustled down to the linen closet and pulled out a stack of towels for her. Poor thing. She was in her room like a prisoner because I couldn't keep my dick out of her last night. I had to make this right.
She opened the door a little for me, and my heart melted when I saw her. Her long hair was wet, soaking her T-shirt, and she looked innocent, sexy, and beautiful without her makeup on. "Hey," I said. "I'll put these in the bathroom for you."
"You don't have to. I'll take them," she said, and it sounded as if she were struggling to keep her voice even.
I looked at her and sighed. "Can I…talk to you?"
She nodded, and even though she crossed her arms against her chest, she stepped aside so I could come in. Eric had put her in the guest suite, so she had her own sitting area, laundry, and a full bathroom. I set the towels down and took a quick scan of the room. The sheets were stripped from the bed, and I could hear the washer running. "About last night—" I started.
Avery shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I don't ever drink that much. And I've never had shots like that before. I don't know what got into me," she babbled, motioning to me. "I mean…I know what got into me—but I don't know how it got in there. I mean, I do. I mean, I don't. Oh God, please make me stop talking!" She cringed and put her face in her hands.
"It's okay," I said. I wanted to pull her into my arms and make her feel better, but I knew it would only make it worse. And for some strange reason—maybe being back in her room or the fact that she clearly had no bra on underneath that damp T-shirt—my dick was getting hard again. Traitor. Jesus Christ, I needed to get control of that thing.