Assumption (Underground Kings #1)(20)

“Oh God, I texted you?” I groan.
“You did. Now, go to sleep.”
“I feel sick.”
“You have nothing left if your stomach,” he says on a sigh.
“What do you mean?”
“You were sick all night.”
“This just keeps getting better and better,” I whisper.
“Sleep, babe,” he says quietly as I feel his lips against the bare skin of my shoulder; the touch has my pulse picking up.
“Why am I naked?” I ask, concentrating on the feeling between my legs. I sigh in relief when I don’t feel any tenderness or anything that would lead me to believe I did anything stupider than drink too much and send drunken texts.
“You were sick and I put you in the shower last night. I tried to give you a shirt, but you wouldn’t take it.”
“Oh,” I say, squeezing my eyes closed.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything. Much,” he says quietly, and I can hear a smile in his voice.
“I’m never drinking again.”
“Why?” he asks, sounding surprised. “You had a good time. You just don’t know your limit. I will be having a talk with Tara. No way should she have given you shots of tequila on your first night out drinking.”
“You are not talking with Tara.” I shake my head, imagining him talking to her. I can see it now—it would be a lot of yelling and none of it nice.
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, we’re going to sleep, and then later, we’re going to my Aunt Viv’s house for dinner.”
“Your aunt?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Yep, my aunt.”
“How in the hell does this stuff happen to me?” I question as my stomach gurgles loudly.
“You’ll be okay. You had some Tums a little while ago.” He squeezes my side, and I’m pretty sure my life is like a really bad Lifetime movie.
“You can go to your room,” I tell him after a few minutes.
“No, I’m comfortable.”
“I’m not,” I whine.
“Go to sleep, Autumn.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” He squeezes me again. “Close your eyes and go to sleep or I will give you something that will put you to sleep.”
“You didn’t just say that.”
“Sleep,” he growls.
“Can you at least move your arm so I can move?” I pull the sheet up higher on my chest, lifting my head slightly to see if I can spot a shirt anywhere near me.
“Jesus, you’re a pain in my ass.” He flings his arm behind him and pulls a piece of fabric from behind his back.
“Why do you have this?” I ask when I see that it’s a shirt.
“I just told you. I tried to put it on you last night, but you refused.”
“Oh,” I whisper, slipping the shirt on over my head and then shimmying it down under the sheet.
“Now, lay your ass down and go to sleep.” He tugs me back onto the bed, not giving me a choice.
I turn my back to him and try to scoot away, but it feels like it takes all of my energy to move an inch. I close my eyes as he pulls me into him. My ass curves into his hips, his arm wraps around my waist, and his bicep slides under my head like a pillow. I try not to think about how it makes me feel to be so close to him. I try to tell myself that I don’t feel incredibly safe and comfortable. Before I can convince myself that I hate how I feel, I fall asleep.
I wake up slowly and take notice that I don’t feel the warmth of Kenton behind me, and I open my eyes, wondering if I dreamt the whole thing. I lift my head slightly and look at the clock. “Shit,” I whisper, seeing that it’s eleven already. I take a deep breath and smell Kenton’s cologne. I lift some of my hair to my nose. The smell is so strong that my stomach flips over.
I take my time sitting up on the side of the bed, and I see that a glass full of water, two Tylenols, and a few Tums have been set on the nightstand. I don’t want to think that it’s sweet that he thought about how I would feel when I woke up and made sure to leave them where I would find them before I got out of bed, but I can’t stop thinking about it as I take the pills.
I get out of bed and look down at myself, noticing that I’m not wearing one of my shirts, but a shirt I’m sure belongs to him. I walk to the dresser and get a pair of panties and a bra before going to the closet and grabbing a pair of shorts, a tank top, and an oversized sweater. I open my bedroom door, looking both ways before running across the hall to the bathroom.
Once inside, I quietly shut the door and turn to look in the mirror. I cover my mouth with my hand when I see myself. My hair is sticking out all over my head. My eye makeup is smeared around my eyes and down my cheeks, and my freckles stand out due to how pale I look.
“Kill me now,” I whisper to my refection as I grab a couple of makeup remover cloths from the drawer and wipe my face. When I’m done, I start the shower and step inside. I look down when I feel something soggy under my feet. My dress from last night is on the shower floor, sopping wet, so I pick it up and ring it out before tossing it over the shower rail.
I don’t know what happened last night, and I can’t help but be thankful I don’t remember anything. I can only imagine the kind of fool I made out of myself while drunk. I get out of the shower and quickly get dressed before french braiding my hair and putting on some mascara, blush, and lip gloss.
As I’m picking up my clothes from the floor, my eye catches my cell phone sitting on the back of the toilet. I pick it up, looking at the black screen, afraid to click it on. I say a silent prayer that I didn’t actually text Kenton last night and that he was just joking when he told me what I’d done. I press the round button before sliding my finger across the screen.