Series: Torn and Bound Duet Series by K. Webster
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Come on,” Sasha says to Mia, holding her hand out. “I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t feel good,” Mia groans.
Sasha’s nose scrunches. “I’ll call an Uber.”
“I’m taking her home,” I snarl. “Get the fuck over it.”
She gasps in shock at my words. Unlike Sasha, I don’t give a goddamn about pretenses. My girl is wasted and sick and heartbroken. I’m the only one who will take care of her like she needs to be cared for.
I walk Mia almost to the doors when the cold draft rushes in as more patrons do, making her shiver. Pulling away from her and leaning her against the wall beside the door, I peel off my jacket and then set to putting it on her. Her brown eyes are shimmering with sadness and her bottom lip pokes out, wobbling.
Fuck.
I broke her damn heart.
Threading my fingers into her soft hair, I tilt her head up so I can see her pretty, distraught face up close. Her eyes flutter closed when I lean in. I press a soft kiss to her lips.
“I’ve got you, MiMi.”
When I pull away, a tear is streaking down her cheek. I quickly wipe it away with my thumb and tuck her under my protective embrace once more. We step outside, both of us flinching against the cold. I make my way back over to my Audi and retrieve my keys from the valet. Once I have the passenger side door open, I assist Mia into the seat before closing her inside.
Finally.
I won’t lose her again.
Once I’m inside the still-warm car, I reach over and take her hand. I expect resistance, but my girl threads her fingers with mine. Like old times.
She leans her forehead against the glass side window, groaning as I take off. My heart is pounding out of my chest, overcome with elation that I managed to not only talk to her, but to finally touch her again.
The drive home is quiet, but my mind is loud. I want to tell her I love her. Apologize. Beg for forgiveness. Instead, I opt for silence, afraid to disrupt the moment.
“I don’t feel so good,” she mumbles again. “Ashton, I think I’m going to be sick.”
I pull into a parking spot in front of our building and shut off the car just as she flings open the door. Something splatters on the pavement. I don’t do puke. At all. But this is Mia. I’ll swim through a pool of it if that means I get to have her on the other side.
“Yuck, MiMi,” I grumble as I reach her. Vomit drips from her chin and her eyes are teary. “How much did you pay for that bottle of regret?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
I chuckle as I help her step over the mess. “Let’s go wash that fifty bucks off your chin.”
We barely make it to the building before she wretches another two Benjamins out of her system. Once inside the building, I scoop up her tiny body and carry her through the halls. She presses her face against my neck, groaning like she might puke some more. The stench makes me want to gag, but I’ll endure it for her.
Eventually, we make it inside my apartment. She doesn’t protest, so I consider it a win. I carry her right to my room and into the bathroom. Once I set her on the counter and peel my jacket off her that’ll need dry cleaning, I start the shower. Her eyes are closed, and she’s a mess with puke in her hair and down the front of her dress.
“Can you shower?” I ask, frowning at her. “You need to. I’m not letting you in my bed like this.”
A crazed laugh bubbles out of her and then she starts to cry. “You want me in your bed?”
“I want you everywhere, Mia.”
I yank off my tie and toss it to the floor as steam begins to fill the bathroom. “Do you need my help?”
Her teary eyes roam up my chest to my face and she nods.
“Okay,” I say, sucking in a breath. “Try not to get dazzled by my dick. It’s so pretty, it hurts to look at. It’s best if you avert your eyes.”
She laughs but then starts to gag again. I scoop her up and carry her over to the toilet, gripping her messy, sticky hair as she heaves into the toilet. Her chokes turn into sobs.
“Shh, baby, shh. I’m going to take care of you,” I assure her. “Get it all out so we can clean you up.”
She grips the bowl, no longer puking, just shaking. I release her hair so I can strip out of my fancy shit. Then, I crouch to unzip her dress. I help her stand up and something clatters to the floor. Her phone, ID, and credit card.
“Were you hiding those in your vag?” I ask. “I may not know much about pussies, but your phone seems a little big to be shoving up your snatch.”