Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(9)

“You’re too drunk to drive,” he states firmly.

“Um, we only live a few blocks away,” I shoot back, slurring my words. Spinning in place, I point in what I think may be the direction of our street. “We walked from our apartment. Wherever that is,” I mumble, unfocused.

“I don’t want to walk all the way back,” Haven protests, pouting. “Maybe these nice men can drive us home.” Smiling up at the very tall Eric, she adds softly, “That’d be okay, right?”

“Absolutely,” Eric says, satisfied, like this is all going according to some plan.

What plan, though? Seducing Haven? Is the only thing on Eric’s mind the seduction of a young woman? I don’t know. But I do know there’s something about him that bugs me. Too bad I’m too inebriated to figure out why that is.

Vincent drapes his arm around my shoulder, ripping me from my wayward thoughts.

Glancing forward, I see Haven and Eric are already several feet in front of us. “Our car’s over there,” Vincent says as he guides my steps.

I’m a bit unsteady, but he helps me stay upright. “I didn’t mean to get so drunk,” I whisper.

“It’s okay,” he replies. “You’ll be fine.”

He tightens his arm around my shoulder, and I get a waft of men’s cologne…and just man. I can’t deny that I feel a little turned on. With my inhibitions lowered, I slide my hand under the back edge of Vincent’s suit jacket and grasp onto his dress shirt for more leverage.

I suppose that’s a green light for him. When we get into the backseat of their car—some supernice luxury sedan—Vincent wastes no time in pulling me onto his lap. He’s strong. I don’t resist. I do the exact opposite, in fact. I’m the right amount of drunk and lonely that I maneuver until our faces are mere inches away. This close, if I squint and create more blurriness than what I’m currently experiencing, I can pretend Vincent is Farren.

“You look a little bit like someone I know,” I say.

“And who would that be?” Vincent’s lips trail along my jaw and up to my ear. “A boyfriend?” he whispers lightly.

I wish. “Um, no, just a guy.” A guy I wish you were right now.

I shake my head slightly to clear my crazy thoughts. The movement doesn’t deter Vincent. His lips continue their assault, traveling down my neck and over my collarbone.

“I don’t really know know the guy you kind of look like,” I continue, babbling now.

Vincent’s hands move down to my ass and then up under the back of my shirt.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” I gasp, succumbing to the lusty feelings this stranger is awakening. “He’s not here.”

“No, he’s not,” Vincent says softly as his lips brush over mine. “But I am here.”

“Yes, yes, you are…”

I then proceed to make out with a man whose last name I don’t even bother to ask for. When I venture a quick glance to the front seat, I see Eric is driving. Haven is sprawled over his shoulder, her hand moving rhythmically in his lap. She’s clearly jacking him off. His eyes are half-closed, and he’s inching down the street where our place is located at a snail’s pace. Thankfully, we reach the little frame house we live in before he finishes.

Eric nudges Haven’s hand away, zips up his pants, and opens the door. But he doesn’t get out right away. He asks Haven, his voice even, “Do you rent the whole house?”

What an odd question.

Haven appears to be as confused as I am. “Um, no, we live on the second floor,” she answers,

“Anyone live on the first floor?” Eric wants to know.

“No,” Haven says. “The student who lives there during the school year moved out, like, days ago.”

This seems to satisfy Eric. “Okay,” he says, nodding. He then gets out of the car, as does Haven.

When Vincent and I stay put, Eric pokes his head back in and asks, “Coming?”

Drunk as I am, I find Eric’s question hilarious. “No, but it sure looked like you were about to on the way here,” I retort.

I’m still perched on Vincent’s lap, and I feel his chest rumble. He’s trying not to laugh. Okay, maybe this guy I’ve spent the past ten minutes sucking face with is not so bad. Maybe I should throw caution to the wind and sleep with him.

Those are my intentions, but by the time Vincent and I make it to my bedroom, everything is spinning.

“I don’t feel so good,” I mutter as I fall back onto the bed.

Vincent fumbles with the straps on my sandals and gently slips them off my feet. I try to sit up to remove my lacy top, but I fall backward. Vincent props me up and tugs the black material over my head, leaving me in just a tank and skinny jeans.

“Are we going to have sex?” I bluntly ask.

Vincent chuckles. “I don’t think so, Essa.” He looks around the room. “Do you have a bucket? You don’t look so good.”

I slur, “Yeah, there’s a bucket in the bathroom.”

Our apartment is small enough that I feel confident he’ll have no trouble finding the bathroom. It’s located right between my bedroom and Haven’s bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells me when he’s near the door.