Devil's Game (Reapers MC, #3)(57)

His face softened.

“Say it again.”

“Are you sure you’re actually a real biker?” I asked. He shook his head and grinned.

“No, my name. Liam.”

“Liam,” I said, letting it roll around my tongue. “Liam. Liam. Fuck me, Leeeeam.”

“Christ, I love how you say that. Nobody calls me that but you, Em.”

“That sounded almost sweet,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But we aren’t playing games. I know you aren’t sweet, so stop pretending.”

He dropped his forehead down, resting it against mine.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” he said quietly. “Not gonna blow it now.”

“Maybe I should blow you?”

His face twisted almost painfully, hips swiveling against mine. For a minute I thought I had him. Then he kissed the tip of my nose and rolled off me. He tucked me into his side again, and used his free arm to grab a remote control off the bedside table. The TV sitting on top of a battered dresser flickered to life.

“Tell you what. Let’s hang out for a while. You sober up and still want to go at it, no problem. My dick’s all yours,” he said. “Until then, we’ll watch some TV. You like Top Gear?”

“Sure,” I said, trying not to yawn. I glanced up at the unicorn. It seemed to wink at me, sneaky bastard. I decided to rest my eyes for a minute, because they obviously weren’t working right. Five minutes later I was sound asleep.

I was dead.

Only death and damnation to hell could explain suffering this terrible.

Horrible, unspeakably bright sunlight attacked me. I tried covering my eyes with my arm. Unfortunately, this brought it into contact with my head, which exploded into waves of painful throbbing.

I heard the door open.

“Morning,” Hunter said cheerfully. “I brought you some coffee.”

I wasn’t dead, I realized. I tried to think back, remember the night before. Flashes hit me. Strippers. A glowing unicorn. British people talking about cars …

Oh God.

I’d thrown a jealous tantrum and demanded Hunter have sex with me. Then I’d fallen asleep on top of him. Kit. This was all Kit’s fault. She bought the devil shots. She insisted we stalk Hunter. Hell, she’d texted him in the first place.

My sister would pay for this.

“You want some Advil?” Hunter asked. I slowly peeled my gummy eyelids open. He stood over me, his hair wet and his skin glowing with the fresh vigor of a newly showered man.

Damn him and his sobriety.

“Advil would be great,” I said, unsteadily sitting upright. The covers fell down as I reached for the coffee.

Then I realized I was wearing only my bra and panties.

“Crap,” I said, grabbing for the sheet.

“Not like I haven’t seen it before,” Hunter said reasonably. “I stripped you down last night, figured you’d be more comfortable. Also, I think you spilled booze on the shirt. It smelled funny.”

Of course it did, I thought, mentally sighing. Because getting drunk and making an ass of myself wasn’t enough. Nope. I had to stink, too. Wordlessly, I reached for the coffee. I took a sip of the dark, bitter liquid, feeling it flow down my throat like a miracle drug. I was already feeling more human—amazing what a little caffeine can do.

Hunter sat down on the bed next to me.

“Think you’ll live?” he asked.

I considered the question carefully.

“Not sure,” I admitted. “Physical suffering aside, I’m pretty sure I’ll never live last night down. I’m sorry I was such a freak.”

He gave a laugh.

“Yeah, because I’ve never seen someone get drunk and stupid before,” he said. “Not that I didn’t appreciate you climbing all over me. But what the hell was that all about? Wasn’t like you.”

“Kit,” I said, her name a curse. “All her idea. For the record, she’s the one who texted you, too. My sister is insane. I’m not entirely sure she’s even human.”

I took another drink, then had a horrible realization. I’d abandoned my sister—drunk—in the middle of a party where screwing women publicly on tables was socially acceptable.

“Is she okay?” I asked, full of sudden panic. “Have you seen Kit?”

“She’s fine,” he said. “Down in the kitchen with Kelsey. They’re making breakfast for all the stragglers. I guess they hit it off last night—now they’re building some kind of unholy alliance.”

I shuddered.

“Just what the world needs. Did I really ask you to fu—have sex with me last night?”

“Yup,” he said, looking smug. “I’m on board with that now, by the way. You were just way too out of it last night for us to have any fun.”

“Wow, what a prince,” I muttered. “You won’t screw a drunk girl. Were you class president, too?”

He laughed.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t have been fun for either of us. I’m not into necrophilia. You were so out of it I kept getting nervous and checking to make sure you hadn’t stopped breathing.”

“Ewww.”

“Hey, not my fault. I was sober, remember? You’re the one who poured those shots down your throat.”