“Go to sleep, Rebel.”
“Stay.”
Groaning, I pressed a hand to my face, because the pleading tone hit me straight in the feels.
“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” I said. “Damn thing is so narrow I’d roll off and wind up on the floor.”
“King-sized bed.”
“Yeah. I’ve got one too. Just down the hall.”
“Please.”
Now how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that?
“Fine, but if you puke on me, you’re going to owe me big time.”
“Eww, not one of my kinks,” he muttered, throwing one arm over his eyes as I turned on the lamp so I could undress.
Wallet, phone, mini-notebook; I emptied my pockets andplaced the contents on the nightstand while he grumbled about the light.
“Give me a minute; I’m almost done,” I said, hurrying to drop my clothes in a pile beside the bed before climbing in.
“Not how I planned to get you in my bed,” Rebel slurred as I pulled the blankets over me and tried to get comfortable.
A part of me wanted to roll on my side and hold him, but I didn’t want to accidentally pin him down on his back in case he vomited and choked. Shit, he probably shouldn’t sleep on his back, now that I think about it.
“I put the trash can beside the bed if you need it,” I told him. “Why don’t you roll over so you’re closer to it?"
“Feels like déjà vu.”
“Yeah, it does, only I’m not the one who’s going to wake up with a hangover,” I reminded him as I scooted closer and draped an arm over him.
“Nice.”
“Uh-huh, now go to sleep.”
“Like you.”
“I hope so, or things will be awkward in the morning,” I said.
The next thing I knew, he was holding my arm tight, like he was afraid I was going to let go of him and leave once he passed out again.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Stayin’.”
A short time later all I heard out of him was a low snore, while I lay there in the dark, hoping I wasn’t going to get my heart stomped on in the end, since I was well past the point where I’d be able to stop myself from falling for him.
Chapter 19
(Rebel)
Sorry I was too drunk to text you back last night. What did you need?I texted Steel in response to the messages I hadn’t seen until after I’d shambled out of the shower this morning to find that Kit had left while I was in the bathroom.
He’d left a message on the notepad beside the bed, with a doodle of two tipsy stick figures staggering past hotel room doors, saying he’d be back with his electric drum set, and we’d order room service.