Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)(7)
Done retching, she finally pushed away from the toilet, trying to look composed despite how inelegantly she’d just thrown up and how wasted she still was. He released her sticky hair, grabbed a clean washcloth, dampened it with water from the sink, then gave it to her to wash her face.
She swiped the cloth across her mouth and chin, then looked down at herself, cringing in dismay as she caught sight of her soiled clothes. “That was disgusting,” she murmured in embarrassment as she looked up at him from where she was still sitting on the floor. “And now…and now I’m all messy.”
Truthfully, his cupcake looked like shit and smelled just as bad. “Yeah, you’re a hot mess, all right,” he said, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice.
She perked up ever so slightly, an impish smile curving the corner of her mouth. “No…you’re freakin’ hot,” she said again.
He chuckled when she totally misconstrued the phrase hot mess as a compliment. Clay was undoubtedly jaded when it came to women. He wasn’t amused by them, and he didn’t laugh with them much, either. He didn’t do relationships or romance or dating. Normally, the extent of his interaction with a woman was serving one a drink at the bar or hooking up for a quick f*ck. Yet this woman was already getting under his skin and intriguing him more than was wise.
Her nose wrinkled as she finally got a whiff of herself. “I…I need to take a shower,” she announced, and tried to stand.
She wavered on her heels as she tried to push herself upright, and he caught her upper arm before she fell on her face. Even then, she stumbled against his chest, smearing that foul-smelling vomit all over his T-shirt and jeans.
Fucking great, he thought, gritting his teeth.
Even though he agreed that she smelled offensive, there was no way he was letting her get into a slippery tub in her condition. “How about you put one of my shirts on and lie down on the bed and take a nap?” And when she woke up in the morning, then she could deal with getting cleaned up.
She frowned at him. “But I stink.”
“Yes, you do.” There was no denying the truth.
She pushed away from him and once again staggered in those ridiculously high shoes as she attempted to unbutton her blouse. “And my hair… It’s got stuff in it.” She made a sour face. “If I don’t take a shower…the awful smell is going to make me sick again.”
Her brow furrowed in concentration, but her clumsy fingers couldn’t figure out how to slip a button through its hole. But judging by her determined expression, Clay knew there was nothing he could say or do to make her change her mind. Not that he blamed her. The stench was making him nauseous, as well, and he had a strong stomach.
Figuring it was best to just get this done and over with so he could put her into bed and she could pass out for the night, he brushed her hands aside and quickly unfastened her blouse. Pulling the hem from her pants, he pushed the stained and silky material off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She reached up to unhook her sexy, pale pink lace bra that did an incredible, mouth-watering job of displaying her full, creamy breasts like an offering, and he knew if those beauties spilled free, the temptation to touch and taste would sorely test his restraint.
Hell, everything about Samantha was making it difficult for him to keep his hands off her in a sexual way, despite the fact that she’d just puked her guts out. Letting her get naked right in front of him wasn’t an option, even though his straining cock argued otherwise.
“Leave it on,” he said, grateful that her uncoordinated fingers couldn’t manage to unclasp her bra. Did the woman have no sense of modesty? Then again, he was well aware how alcohol could loosen a person’s inhibitions, and she was obviously well beyond caring about acting appropriately. No doubt she’d be mortified in the morning, but for now, she didn’t care.
“But I need to—”
“No,” he bit out, harsher than he’d intended. In the kind of authoritative voice that normally commanded a person’s attention.
She dropped her hands to her sides and exhaled a petulant sigh. “You don’t have to be so grumpy,” she muttered, clearly not at all fazed by his sharp tone.
Yeah, he was grumpy and f*cking horny, and it was about to get worse. As quickly as possible, he unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, and had to bend down to help her out of her shoes, then took off the last of her clothing. Her balance faltered as she stepped out of her pants, and she reached out for something to grab, which ended up being his hair.
He winced as her fingers tightened in the strands, and in his current position, crouched in front of her, his face level with her blush-colored lace panties, he imagined her clutching his hair for a different reason altogether. Not to steady herself but to push his mouth between her soft, smooth thighs so he could lick her with the deft slide of his tongue and get her off.
Abruptly, he stood back up and propped her ass against the vanity for support while he removed her pearls and the diamond-encrusted watch that probably cost a small fortune. He turned on the water to let it get hot while he stripped out of his T-shirt, jeans, socks, and shoes.
She watched him as he undressed, taking in the width of his chest, and followed the definition of his abs down to the waistband of his black boxer briefs that he’d left on. Licking her lips, she stared shamelessly at the thick shaft outlined by the snug cotton. Her breathing deepened, and a flush of arousal swept across her cheeks.