Dopplebanger (Meet-Cute #5)

Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

My blood pressure was still way too high as I pushed inside the hotel room. I thought I was busted when the receptionist called me Ethan. Didn’t they usually address people by their last name?

Not that it was her fault I wasn’t being totally honest with my “girlfriend.” When she looked at Gwen, half-asleep and clearly drugged-up on something, I’d been sure that I was about to take a trip down to the police station. It spoke to how far gone I was over this girl that my biggest worry in that scenario was that I wouldn’t be able to monitor her with my own eyes so I could know for myself if she was truly all right.

“Okay, here’s the bed.” I lowered Gwen into a sitting position. With her all but passed out, I was tempted to carry her back to the Camaro and take her to the hospital, just to be sure she was as fine as she claimed. Her breathing had evened out, replacing that awful, rattling wheezing she’d been doing, and I didn’t see any hives. She didn’t look puffy, either, just super tired.

She reached down and fumbled with her shoes, and when her lips stuck out in a pout and she added a grunt, I dropped down to get them for her. Who knew it could be so hard to get sandals off?

Too tired to remove shoes, but her innuendo generator is working just fine. I bit back a smile when I recalled the “Oh, I plan to,” response to enjoying her stay. My already pounding heart had hammered even harder at all the ways I wanted to take her statement—pretty soon, I’d be the one who would need a trip to the ER.

As I started to stand, Gwen caught a fistful of my shirt, tugged me toward her, and touched her lips to mine. I cut the kiss short and earned another pout.

I swept her hair off her face and cupped her cheek. “Babe, you need sleep.”

“I can sleep later.”

“You can’t even fully open your eyes.”

She worked on it, her eyes going wide for a couple of seconds before she lost the battle. “That’s probably for the best. I can’t stop worrying you’ll be disappointed. And that’s when I’m in full possession of my faculties.”

Only Gwen would use a phrase like “full possession of my faculties” while under the influence.

There would be no disappointment on my end, I already knew that. And if it was up to me, I wouldn’t let her walk away until she was satisfied in every sense of the word.

My gaze dipped to her cleavage. Then I was thinking of stripping her clothes off and getting my hands and mouth on those amazing curves, and every ounce of my blood rushed south. And I need to shut down the dirty image reel or I’m going to have a permanent case of blue balls.

I couldn’t go there. I hated that I couldn’t. Not only because sex was awesome and it’d undoubtedly be extra amazing with Gwen, but also because I’d never be as close to her as I wanted to be. And while I wanted to blame my brother, I had no one to blame but myself. I could’ve walked away that morning at the coffee shop. In theory, anyway. But once I’d met her, I wanted to spend more time with her, my main reason for coming along for the ride shifting to entirely selfish reasons.

My ethical line was way past where it should be, but I hadn’t abandoned it completely, and that was at least something. I hoped, anyway.

I peeled back the covers and sheet and helped her into bed. Her red hair splayed out on the pillow, a stark contrast to the white. Man, she was pretty. Considering she’d told the hotel clerk that she was taking advantage of me, she was also slightly delusional.

“Evan?”

It stung every time she used my brother’s name. But again, no one to blame but myself. “Yeah?”

“Come cuddle with me. My eyes don’t need to be open for that, and it’ll help me fall asleep. Right now I’m in that weird in-between phase.” Her words came out slurred and sluggish. “Like I can’t fully relax even as the medication is trying to pull me under, so I’m just in limbo. I hate limbo.”

The oxygen drained from my lungs. I didn’t know if I could be as strong as I needed to be if I crawled into that bed.

Her arm swung out, sweeping the air until she made contact with my wrist. I could’ve easily resisted the tug, but I didn’t want to.

“Just a sec,” I said.

“Did you say sex?”

I bit back a groan—she wasn’t going to make this easy. I kicked off my shoes, considered taking off my jeans and then decided that’d only ensure my failure to behave, and climbed in next to her.

Rustling came from her side, and the next thing I knew, she’d thrown her bra and shorts out of the bed, leaving her in only her shirt and… I resisted looking, even though it was all I could think about.

I wasn’t Superman; I was a fucking saint.

My sainthood was tested when she snuggled up to me, resting her head on my shoulder and hooking her leg over both of mine. Having her next to me was the sweetest kind of torture. Her warm breath hit my neck a mere moment before her soft lips.

She was definitely initiating, and I was definitely turned on. But I was also definitely shutting it down. Since I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, especially after that ridiculous comment about being disappointed, I gently shifted, pulling her back against my front. I couldn’t do much about the hard-on. Her ass was right there. A choked noise escaped my mouth as she wiggled against me.

Taking shallow, tempered sips of air, I dragged my fingertips over her arm and back up. Over her shoulder and down her spine.

Her breathing slowed; mine quickened.

Her body relaxed; mine tensed.

She let go and let sleep take her; I clung on to consciousness, soaking in the way she felt in my arms.

Hadn’t I already accepted the fact that I was going to hell for this? Paving my way with every stolen look, kiss, and touch?

I settled my hand on her hip and kissed the back of her head.

If so, let me burn.