“She’s passed out drunk?”
“Yep.” I nod.
“Fucking idiot.” My dad shakes his head. “Make sure she has water and Advil by her bed.”
“Was planning on it,” I tell him.
I walk up the stairs, and it crosses my mind to put her in my bed and not the guestroom. I don’t. She probably won’t appreciate waking up in my bed and not knowing how she got there, so I walk into the guestroom and close the door with a foot.
Frankie stirs when I lay her on the bed. “Emilio? What happened?”
“You fell asleep,” I tell her.
“Mmm, it’s so hot.” She starts pulling at her dress. “Get it off me.”
“Are you sure?” I ask her. “Wait. Let me get you a shirt.” I run into my bedroom and grab one of the shirts from the closet. When I walk back into Frankie’s room, she’s managed to get the dress off and is sitting on the bed in a matching bra and panties set. Fucking pink lace.
Not the time.I shake the thoughts of her body from my mind as much as I can and pull the shirt over her head. Once her arms are through the holes, I reach up behind her, under the fabric, and unclip her bra. Then I slide the straps down her arms to remove it.
“You’ve done that before,” Frankie says accusingly.
“You should sleep.”
“What if I don’t want to sleep? I’m horny, Emilio. How about instead of sleep, we have sex?”
I freeze. She did not just say that. And I have to fucking turn her down. Goddamn it. “You’re drunk, babe. I’m not fucking you when you’re drunk,” I tell her.
“Please… Emilio, do you not want me?” She pouts and starts pulling the shirt upwards, revealing her thighs.
“I want you. You know I do. But when I fuck you, I want to make sure you remember it, and I want you to want me like this when you’re sober.”
“I want you even when I’m asleep.” She sighs and falls backwards onto the bed.
“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. Te amo,” I whisper the last part because I don’t need her to hear it.
Chapter Twelve
When I wake up, it’s still dark and my mouth tastes like shit. I climb out of bed, stumble into the bathroom, and find my toothbrush. I spend a good three minutes scrubbing the taste of alcohol from my mouth. Splashing waterover my face, I’m thankful I wasn’t wearing makeup yesterday. At least I haven’t woken up with racoon eyes.
I look down at the shirt Emilio put on me. He was such a gentleman last night. I practically threw myself at him and he walked away. Okay, there was nopracticallyabout it. I threw myself at him. I remember it. I’ve never been theget drunk and forget what I didkind of girl. Unfortunately. I kissed him, in front of everyone in that bar. In front of Esterio. So much for keeping this secret.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I tiptoe into the hallway and look at the door next to mine. Is he even in there? What if I go in and he’s not in there? Shit, maybe I should just go back to bed.
A throat clears from the other end of the hall. “Sneaking around, Frankie?” It’s Ezekiel.
“No.” I shake my head. “I was just going to the kitchen to find some water.”
“Sure you were. You know, if you’re going to sneak out of his room, maybe put your own clothes on if you want people to believe you weren’t in there.” Ezekiel opens a door and disappears. His laughter follows him, though.
Well, if people are going to think I slept in there, I’m going in. If he’s not there, then I’ll just go back to my bed.
Slowly twisting the door handle, I push it open, pausing when it squeaks. Then I tiptoe through the small gap in the door before gently closing it.
When I turn around, a light flicks on and I’m greeted by the end of a gun aimed at my head. “Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, are you trying to get yourself shot?” Emilio curses and sets the gun down on the bedside table.
“Why are you sleeping with a gun?” I ask him, ignoring his question and walking over to his bed.
“I like to be prepared. You know, in case people sneak into my room to try to kill me,” he deadpans.