Adore Me Read online

  He stared at me, not saying a word, and I knew why. The same reason he let me. It was a vice we both used to deal with our issues. The numbness did a hell of a job drowning out the guilt. At least for a little while.

  “Never mind.”

  “Thought you would say that.”

  We exchanged a knowing look as I pushed Morgan’s phone into my pocket. Wrapping my arm around her, I guided her out to where we waited for the Uber. When it pulled up, the driver shook his head.

  “If she throws up, I’m charging you a cleaning fee, bro.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, helping Morgan into the backseat.

  Twenty minutes later the car pulled up to a small bungalow on the west side of Austin. The driver jumped out of the car and ran around to the back to help me get Morgan out.

  “Dude, your girl is wasted.”

  My heart panged for a moment. She wasn’t my girl. “She’s just a friend, and I know she is. Today’s a tough day for her.”

  He nodded. “I get it. Enjoy your evening, bro.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  As we walked up to Morgan’s door, I paused. I hadn’t seen a purse on the bar back at Butch’s place.

  “Morgan? Princess, where are your keys?”

  She looked up at me. “I feel sick.”

  Oh great. “Keys to your house?”

  “In pockets.”

  Glancing down, I held her with one arm as I reached into her pocket and felt for her keys.

  “God . . . it’s been a long time since a guy touched me.”

  I groaned internally. It was one thing to innocently look for her keys, but something completely different when she talked about me touching her.

  “I’m not touching your body, Morgan. I’m getting your keys.”

  “Oh. Bummer.”

  I ignored her comment and unlocked the door. I decided it was easier to just pick her up and carry her. Morgan let out a yelp as I lifted her and walked into the dark house.

  “Bedroom?” I asked, looking around for a light.

  “What kind of girl do you thinks I am? Right to sex, Blake? Not even kisses? That’s not fair. I’ve always thought you would be a good kisser.” She pursed her lips and made kissing sounds.

  I didn’t have time to think about that.

  “Morgan, we’re not having sex. I’m not kissing you, and I don’t want to touch you.”

  Her body sagged against me, and she buried her face into my chest.

  After opening doors into an office and a spare room, I finally found her room. Walking in, I gently placed her on the bed. When I pulled back, I froze.

  “Morgan? Why are you crying?”

  “You’re not attracted to me.”

  Staring at her like she was nuts, I watched her pull her covers over her head. I sat on the bed and pulled them back down.

  “Why would you say that?”

  Morgan tossed her hands up in the air and then let them fall to the bed. “You said you didn’t want me.”

  I laughed. “No, I never once said that. I said we weren’t having sex, and I . . .”

  She raised a brow and gave me a hopeful look. Then she ran her tongue over her lips, and I nearly died on the spot.

  “Let me go get you some water.”

  She smiled. “Yum.”

  Covering her back up, I made my way to the kitchen and got a glass of water. Then I found some Advil in her bathroom and poured out three, then I grabbed the small trash can from under the sink in case she needed to get sick. When I walked back into her bedroom, Morgan was snoring. Loudly.

  Thank God.

  I set the water on the side table along with the Advil. Glancing down, I couldn’t help but smile. Even drunk and snoring, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on.

  Leaning down, I went to kiss her forehead and stopped myself. My eyes moved to her soft lips, and I ached to kiss her. I pulled back. With a whisper, I said, “Sleep well, princess.”

  Morgan smiled in her sleep and mumbled something. I headed to the office, grabbed some paper and a pen, and quickly wrote her a note.

  Morgan,

  I hope you took the Advil. Drink some orange juice mixed with the V8 you have in the refrigerator. Trust me on that one. Nasty as hell, but a miracle hangover cure.

  Hope you wake up feeling all right. You were pretty toasted, princess.

  I took your house key so I could lock your doors. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving them unlocked. Call me tomorrow and we can work out a time for me to swing by and give them to you.

  Blake.

  P.S. It impressed the Uber driver that you didn’t throw up, considering how drunk you were.

  P.P.S. It’s Blake Greene, in case you know another Blake.

  I let myself out and locked the door behind me.

  As I waited for another Uber to come, I couldn’t help the way my mind kept flashing to Morgan looking up at me, silently pleading for me to kiss her. Damn, Morgan Barrett drunk out of her mind and wanting me to kiss her, touch her.

  Fuck. I tried to ignore that familiar little ache in my chest. A part of me wanted to go back to Butch’s Place and finish what I had started. Another part wanted to go home and replay every touch and look from Morgan.

  I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. I’d go home, drink myself to sleep, and forget about this night. Little did I know those blue eyes would haunt my dreams.

  ROLLING OVER, I felt my head pounding behind my eyes. I attempted to open them without screaming out in pain from the headache that had already settled in.

  Why do I do this to myself?

  I drug in a deep breath and slowly opened one eye, then another. It was still dark in my room. My body relaxed instantly, and I let out the breath I had been holding in. I could hear the birds in my backyard singing, and it made me smile. I might have a massive hangover, but that sound calmed me instantly.

  “At least I was smart and kept the curtains shut.”

  With slow movements, I sat up. My eyes adjusted to the room before I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Catching a glance at the side table, I saw a glass of water and three Advils.

  “I cannot believe I had the whereabouts last night to set those out,” I mumbled as I reached for the water and pills. With one quick movement, I tossed them into my mouth, then I drank the whole glass of water. It felt amazing. Especially since my mouth felt dry as all get out. I couldn’t even remember leaving Butch’s Place. Maybe Butch left the water and Advil? Or Lucy?

  After taking a few deep breaths, I stumbled my way to the bathroom and into a hot shower. I would have to call Butch and thank him or Lucy for getting me home safely. I gave myself one day a year to lose control, and yesterday had been that day. It didn’t matter, though. No amount of drinking in the world could take away the guilt I felt or the emptiness I couldn’t ever seem to get used to.

  Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I caused myself even more pain when I attempted to hold them back. They won, like they always seemed to do. I covered my mouth in hopes that I could keep the sobs back. I lost that battle. Tears mixed with the hot water as I slowly slid down the tile wall and dropped to the floor. I pulled my knees into my chest, and I lost it.

  What would people think if they knew how many times I had broken down in the shower? Or lying in bed? The girl who counsels others through their grief and pain can’t seem to control her own.

  “Six years! It’s been six years, God. Why can’t I let the guilt go?” I shouted.

  After a good cry, I picked myself back up and finished my shower. With a towel wrapped around my hair and my fluffy robe on, I headed to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea, already feeling loads better.

  Kaelynn’s voice filtered in through my thoughts as I walked toward the kitchen. She was my best friend, and she was also engaged to my brother Nash. They had had a whirlwind romance and were now not only planning a wedding in a few months, but planning on being parents as well come October third. Kaelynn was still earl
y on in her pregnancy, and I guess since she was settling down into a happy married life, she thought that meant I had to as well.

  “Maybe you should think about dating again, Morgan,” Kaelynn had said over and over.

  I groaned at the thought. My last attempt at dating was Rich. It was fun; the sex was okay, but that was all it was. The sex was just a tool I used to try to forget about all the crap that rattled around in my head day in and day out. There was absolutely no emotional connection between Rich and me. I was closed off to him, and he saw it. I wouldn’t allow him in, and he wanted more than sex. I didn’t though, and it wasn’t fair to him. We broke up, but we remained friends.

  Sighing, I closed my eyes and leaned against the counter. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to find love again. But the last time I was in love it left me confused, lonely, and guilty.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw a note sitting on the island. It instantly made me smile. Butch was probably giving me orders about how to prevent the dreaded hangover. Unfortunately, my headache was still hanging on.

  My smile faded when I saw the handwriting. That wasn’t Butch’s handwriting or Lucy’s. My eyes swung down to the signed name.

  Blake.

  Wrapping my arms around my body, I stared at the note. That warm familiar feeling I got whenever Blake was around filled me from head to toe.

  “Blake? As in Blake Greene?” I whispered, trying not to notice how my body trembled slightly at the thought.

  With shaking hands, I picked up the note and read it. I couldn’t help but smile at the reference to who he was at the end. Why was Blake at Butch’s bar, and how in the world did he end up being the person to take me home?

  Setting the note down, I headed to the refrigerator. I sighed in relief when I saw both orange juice and a V8. Trying not to gag as I mixed them together, I plugged my nose and drank the entire glass in one long gulp.

  I put the glass on the granite countertop and dragged in a few deep breaths.

  “Oh. My. God. That was gross!”

  My body shuddered, and I reached for the note again. My phone was sitting next to it, plugged into the charger. The way my chest squeezed at the kind gesture surprised me. I hadn’t felt that feeling in a very long time. It was nice having someone care about something so silly. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I had a secret crush on Blake as well.

  Dialing his number, I sat on the bar stool and tried to figure out what I would say about my behavior last night. Blake was one of my brother’s best friends, and they’d known each other since college. Hell, I’d known him since college. At least, until he’d moved away right after he graduated.

  I closed my eyes and said a prayer that Blake hadn’t called Nash last night. I didn’t really want to explain to my brother why I went once a year on the anniversary of Mike’s suicide and attempted to drink away my guilt and sadness. Six years was too long for me to be holding on to this, that much I knew. I counseled people almost every day on how to handle grief, anger, guilt, and loneliness. The irony of that wasn’t lost on me.

  “Hello?”

  His voice sounded like he was panting for air, as if he had been playing between the sheets with someone. Knowing Blake, he probably was, and that instantly made me feel jealous.

  I swallowed hard as the image of a naked Blake popped into my head. My lower stomach pulled with desire.

  What in the hell! Oh my gosh! Morgan!

  The urge to throw my phone and squeeze my eyes shut hit me like a brick wall. I had never thought of Blake like that. Ever!

  Okay, that was a lie. Blake was hot, and I had more than once let my eyes wander over his body while trying not to let Kaelynn or Nash or any of our other friends see me doing it. When I met Blake in college, I thought he was cute—very cute—but I was already with Mike. And besides, Blake hadn’t ever really seemed to think twice about me as anything other than Nash’s little sister. When he moved back to Austin, I had to admit, it was hard not to want a handsome guy like that to pay attention to me. I clearly wasn’t his type, though, because he never so much as flirted with me.

  “Hello? Morgan, are you okay?”

  He knows it’s me!

  My mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. I rolled my eyes and cursed myself.

  Of course he knows it is you, Morgan. He has your number!

  We had exchanged numbers when I drove with him to Nash and Kaelynn’s new property on the night my brother surprised my best friend by asking her to marry him. Kaelynn had surprised Nash as well by announcing she was pregnant.

  “Um, yeah. Sorry, Blake. I’m running on slow this morning. Did I . . . ah . . . interrupt anything?”

  He laughed. “I bet you are running slow. You were trashed last night. And no, I was out for a run.”

  I sagged in relief and tried not to think of Blake hot and sweaty. My tongue ran over my lips as I let the imagine flit across my mind.

  Lord, what is wrong with me this morning?

  “Please tell me you didn’t call Nash.”

  “I didn’t call him. How are you feeling?”

  Smiling, I replied, “I think your nasty concoction is helping. How did you know I had V8?”

  “I saw it in your refrigerator. You’re the one who turned me on to that nasty shit, if you don’t remember. I came up with the concoction one morning when I was hungover and I accidentally mixed the two together and drank it. I think I was still drunk, to be honest with you.”

  I laughed, and man, did it feel good.

  “Thank you, Blake. For making sure I got home safely.”

  “Of course. Nash and Butch would kick my ass if I hadn’t made sure you were just that. Safe.”

  “You know Butch?”

  “I do. So I need to give you back your house key. How about we talk over breakfast? Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  My stomach growled in agreement. “Food sounds fantastic right about now.”

  “Perfect, I’ll see you soon, princess.”

  My breath hitched in my chest for the briefest of moments before I managed to say, “Okay. See you.”

  The call ended, and I sat there unable to move. I’d never had a guy call me by any sort of endearment. Mike hadn’t even done that, and we had dated since high school and even been engaged.

  Why had Blake calling me princess stolen my breath away like that?

  I did not understand why and really didn’t have much time to debate it with myself. I headed to the bedroom and tried to make myself not look like I had the worse hangover of my life.

  The doorbell rang, and I jumped. I took one quick look at myself in the mirror and blew out a breath, causing my cheeks to puff up.

  “Well, at least I don’t look like death.”

  I had pulled my blond hair up into a ponytail and put on jeans and a light blue T-shirt. A bit of mascara, and I was ready. I never had been much of a makeup kind of girl.

  “Okay, Morgan. This isn’t a date. It’s Blake. You’ve known him forever, so stop acting like this. It’s a crush. He’s a good-looking guy, and it’s natural to be attracted to him.”

  Taking a deep breath, I quickly rushed to the door and opened it.

  “Hey!” I said, trying not to let my eyes drag over his body. He had obviously come straight over from working out, and I had to force myself to keep a casual smile on my face as I quickly took in the sweatpants and the tight black T-shirt.

  Okay, so the T-shirt showed off his upper muscles nicely, and I was definitely staring.

  I dragged my eyes away and looked up at him. Blake on the other hand, wasn’t hiding the fact he was looking me over. My cheeks burned slightly as I motioned for him to come in. Maybe it was because we were alone that we both felt like we could give each other a good once over.

  “How do you feel?” he asked again.

  “No worse for wears, I suppose. Want some water? Looks like you came straight over from your run.”

  He smiled and something deep inside my st
omach pulled slightly . . . again.

  Whoa. Okay . . . what in the hell is happening? It’s been a while since I’ve had sex, but this is insane.

  “Yeah, I figured you might need your house key.”

  Glancing down at the key in his hand, I spoke. And the words that came out of my mouth were not what I meant to say.

  “Oh, I have a spare. You could have kept it.”

  I paused, hearing myself, and looked at him. Fortunately, he laughed.

  “So am I your new designated driver when you get smashed? Is that it?”

  I worried my lip before turning and grabbing two water bottles. Refocusing, I faced him again.

  “Listen, I’d like to explain that over breakfast.”

  He held up his hands. “Morgan, you’re a grown woman. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  The corners of my mouth rose slightly. “I appreciate it, but I think it might do me good to talk about it.”

  The way his face went from happy to serious told me he might already know the reason.

  “Magnolia Café?” he asked, grinning again and giving me a wink that made my knees feel slightly weak.

  So maybe what I felt for Blake was more than a crush.

  Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear . . . oh shit.

  With a much-too-excited pitch to my voice, I answered, “Sounds perfect!”

  “I’ll drive, if that’s okay with you.”

  With a nod, I reached for my purse and the bottle of water and motioned with my hand for him to lead the way. As we got to the door, Blake handed me my house key.

  “Thanks!” I said, still sounding a little too chipper. I locked the door then pulled up the security app on my phone and set the alarm.

  “Good thing that wasn’t set last night.”

  I giggled. “Right? You might have had to call Nash for bail money.”

  Blake placed his hand on my lower back and guided me toward his car. My mind went fuzzy for a moment as the feel of his hand on my body sent a zap of energy through me. Forcing down my desire for more of him, I looked at the car in front of me and whistled. The white Audi R8 Coupe was beautiful.

  “When did you get that, Mr. Greene?”