Shame on Him (13 page)

Right. Liquid courage. I have that in spaces. Or spades. Whatever.

Blowing Paige a few kisses through the phone, I hang up and toss the phone in my clutch.

“Take me to Dallas’s house!” I tell the driver excitedly.

He throws his arm over the back of the seat and turns around. “Where does Dallas live?”

I don’t know. Where DOES Dallas live?

Pulling my purse onto my lap, I dig my phone out again and call him.

“What are you doing calling me? I thought you had a wedding to go to?” Dallas answers. I can hear his smile through the phone and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Or maybe that’s the bourbon talking.

“Where do you live?”

He laughs. “Um, on Highland Street, why?”

“Driver, take me to Highland Street!”

The cab driver shakes his head and pulls the car away from the curb.

“Lorelei, are you drunk dialing me?” Dallas asks in shock.

“I can neither confirm nor deny this statement, Your Honor,” I tell him, dissolving into another fit of giggles. “My mother bought an orgasm. And my father’s never given her a pole dance.”

Dallas barks out a laugh. “Wow. That must have been some wedding. How long before you get here?”

“I don’t know. But make sure you’re not wearing any pants.”

I end the call and let my head flop to the back of the seat.

I must have dozed off because a few seconds later, I hear Dallas’s voice.

“It’s okay; I’ve got her. Keep the change.”

The back door opens and I sit up as Dallas leans into the car and pulls me out. I lose my footing on the curb when I step out and he wraps both of his arms around me and pulls me against him. He smells so good and he’s so warm. I snuggle my face into his chest and take a deep breath.

He slams the door closed and the cab takes off. “Did you just sniff me?”

I look up at his face and see that he’s smiling. “You smell yummy.”

He laughs, walking me up the sidewalk, and leads me through his front door without saying another word. In my alcohol-addled brain, I wonder if I’ve made him angry for showing up drunk and uninvited. And sniffing him.

He grabs my purse from my hand and tosses it onto the couch before turning to look at me. His eyes take me in from head to toe and he whistles.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful. That dress . . . fuck me, that dress,” he says.

My heart soars and my body heats up at his words.

“Why are you still wearing pants?” I whisper, walking up to him and sliding my hands up his chest.

He laughs, skimming the tips of his fingers over my cleavage. Goose bumps break out on my skin and I close my eyes.

I quickly realize that was not a wise move. The room starts to spin and my stomach churns. I feel his lips on my neck and I quickly open my eyes, forcing the nausea back down.

He kisses his way up the side of my neck and the tip of his tongue traces a small circle right behind my ear. I’m torn between the need I feel for him and the need to throw up. I’m not really sure right now which one is going to win.

Dallas pulls his face away from the side of my neck and stares into my eyes. I try really hard to focus on him, but I’m not sure which “him” to look at. Right now I see three.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is not to strip you naked right now?” he whispers.

“The dress has a zipper on the side—it’s not that hard,” I tell him.

He chuckles and cups my face in his hands. “I’d prefer it if you were a little more coherent the first time I take you.”

I want to tell him that’s the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me. I want to tell him that I’ve never ached for anyone as much as I do him. I want to tell him so many things and they’re all swirling around in my brain begging to be let out.

But instead, I just pat my hand against his cheek.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

He takes a step back and points down the hall. I cover my mouth and make a mad dash for the bathroom.

Whoever thought getting drunk was a good idea should be shot.

CHAPTER 16

R
olling over with a sigh, I snuggle my body closer to the warmth in my bed. I slide my hand across smooth skin and briefly wonder if Kennedy shaved Snowball when I wasn’t looking. Slowly opening my eyes, I glance across the pillow and see Dallas smiling at me.

“HOLY SHIT!”

Scrambling away from him, I move to the edge of the bed and sit up, the action causing my brain to feel like it’s going to explode. Squinting my eyes to try and make the pain go away, I stare at his body, naked from the waist up. Looking down at myself quickly, I see that I have a T-shirt on.

“Where’s my dress?”

Dallas raises his arm and points to the corner of the room. My dress is draped over the back of the chair and my shoes are on the floor next to it.

Oh, my God. Did we have sex? Why can’t I remember? And why does it feel like someone kicked me in the head?

I reach my hand up and rest it on my forehead.

“There’s aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand next to you,” he says casually as he pushes himself up to lean against the headboard.

I hear his words, but I can’t process them. All I can do is stare at his naked chest and all of the ink on his arms. Unfortunately, my head is screaming at me to do something. I turn my gaze away from Dallas, and down the pills and the entire glass of water.

Setting the glass back down, I find him staring at me. I’m sure I look super this morning. I drank so much I didn’t take my hair down or wash off my makeup. I probably look like a circus clown.

“Did I . . . I mean, did we . . .” I trail off, pointing between the two of us.

He laughs and shakes his head at me. “No. No, we did not. I’m going to make us some breakfast. I think I have an extra toothbrush and stuff in the bathroom if you want to shower.”

He slides out of bed and I stare at his back while he pulls a pair of jeans on over his black boxer briefs. Thank God we didn’t have sex last night. That’s something I would like to remember.

“Did you change my clothes for me?”

If he saw me naked while I was completely obliterated, I will be mortified.

“Don’t worry; I didn’t look. I pulled one of my T-shirts on over your dress and you did the rest yourself. I was going to let you sleep in here and crash on the couch, but with the amount of liquor you threw up in my toilet, I figured I’d better sleep next to you and make sure you didn’t die,” he tells me with a laugh as he walks from the room.

Scratch that. I would have preferred his seeing me naked rather than everything else he had to witness. I don’t know whether t
o feel grateful that he took such good care of me and didn’t take advantage or a little miffed. It would have been nice to know he at least
wanted
to look. Liquid courage failed me in more ways than one.

Dragging myself out of bed, I head to Dallas’s bathroom and take the hottest shower I can, scrubbing off last night’s makeup and drunken humiliation. When I get out, I see that Dallas left another one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for me to wear. I glance over at my dress in the corner and wonder if I should just slip that back on and leave so I don’t have to face him again.

The smell of bacon and eggs permeates the room and my stomach growls. It would be rude to just leave now when he’s making me breakfast. And I guess I should be happy he didn’t take advantage of me in my inebriated state last night.

Quickly slipping on the shirt and boxers before I change my mind, I run my fingers through my damp hair and make my way out into the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, watching the way the muscles in Dallas’s back move as he works around the kitchen, stirring food and pulling plates out of the cabinet.

It takes everything in me not to walk up behind him and run my hands up his naked back to feel those muscles under my fingers.

I clear my throat so I don’t startle him. He turns around with a spatula in his hand and pauses as he looks at me. I nervously pull at the hem of his shirt. It’s huge on me, but I’m still conscious of the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. I didn’t need one with the dress I wore to the wedding.

“You look good in my clothes,” he says softly as he sets the spatula down on the counter and walks over to me.

“Look, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have come over here like that. I never drink, especially not that much.”

Dallas reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair.

“What do you want, Lorelei?” he asks softly.

I swallow and stare up at him. He’s looking at me imploringly, like he wants me to say something that will change everything. To admit what I’m feeling in the bright light of day without the haze of alcohol clouding my brain and my heart. I suddenly want more than anything to just let go; throw caution to the wind and not worry about the consequences. With a deep breath, I take the plunge.

“You. I just want you.”

A smile spreads across his face and he shrugs. “You already have me. If you want more, just take it.”

Paige was right. He wants me to make the next move. Moving quickly before I lose my nerve, I reach down and grab the hem of his shirt I’m wearing, pulling it up and off my body. I toss it onto the kitchen floor and watch Dallas’s eyes darken with need as he stares at me. Sliding my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, I push them down my legs and step out of them.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful,” he groans.

I take a step toward him and run my hands up his chest. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. “Does this mean you don’t want breakfast first?”

I slide one hand down the front of him and inch my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. I tug on them roughly and haul him up against me.

“Fuck breakfast,” I tell him with a smile.

His lips are on mine immediately. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and his hands go to my ass, pulling me up off of the floor so I can wrap my legs around his hips. As his tongue swirls around mine, he walks me backward and then sets me down on top of the kitchen table.

I reach between us and unsnap his jeans, helping him slide them and his boxers down his hips. While he’s busy taking them the rest of the way off, my hand wraps around his hard length and I slowly slide my hand from base to tip, over and over.

He moans roughly into my mouth as he deepens the kiss. I clutch tightly onto handfuls of his hair as his palms skim up the inside of my thighs. My legs tighten around his hips and I continue working him over with my hand. My movements pause when I feel the tips of his fingers against my center. Pulling my mouth away from his, I moan softly when he slides his fingers through my wetness.

“Jesus, you always feel amazing,” he mutters, resting his forehead against mine.

I move my hand away from him and grab on to his shoulder for support. He slides one hand around to cup my ass and pull me closer to the edge of the table and at the same time, he plunges two fingers inside of me. I let out a gasp and he swallows my cries with his mouth. He touches me the same way he’s always kissed me—a delicious blend of rough and gentle. He knows exactly how and where to touch me and it’s like he instinctively knows what I’ve been missing all my adult life. I want to be taken. I want the mixture of pain and pleasure.

He slides his thumb back and forth over my clit as his fingers move inside me. I thrust my hips against his hand as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. His mouth leaves mine and he makes a trail of kisses across my cheek and to the side of my neck. Just like the night before, the tip of his tongue traces a circle right behind my ear. His fingers move harder and faster against me and I cling tightly to him as my orgasm rushes through me.

I whimper and moan through my release, clutching tightly to Dallas as he pulls every bit of pleasure out of my body.

I’m not ready for this feeling to be over. I want more. I need more. I need all of him right now.

Grabbing onto his hips, I pull him closer to me.

“I need you; I need you,” I chant against his lips.

“Condoms are in the bedroom,” he whispers.

Sliding one hand around his erection and clutching onto his ass with the other, I pull him against me. “I’m on the pill. Fuck the condoms.”

Dallas groans as the tip of his penis slides into me. “Jesus Christ, woman. You’re going to be the death of me with that mouth.”

I smile as he holds himself still, barely inside me. “Just shut up and fuck me already.”

He cuts off my words with his mouth, pulls his hips back, and slams into me.

The table legs scrape across the floor with the force of his movements. I wrap my arms and legs tightly around him as he takes me. With each rough thrust of his hips, I feel another orgasm building. I love the feel of his hands roughly clutching my ass and I know there will be bruises there tomorrow. I love how he isn’t gentle with me and nips at the side of my neck with his teeth. I love how perfectly our bodies fit together.

As another orgasm rushes through me, I clutch Dallas, and he follows right behind me, shouting my name during his release. As we cling to each other and try to catch our breaths, it occurs to me just how many things I love about him. With all of the changes I’ve made in my life lately, the one thing I never expected to alter was my opinion on falling in love again.