29. Levi
LEVI
I stay at the party until Ava’s ready to come home.
I don’t know why, but I don’t want to leave her alone. Especially with that dickhead trying to get her wasted. I don’t believe for a second he had noble intentions when he gave her that glass of punch. Everyone knows to stay away from the fucking punch at a house party.
Better yet, why did he bring her at all? He has to know she’s not the party type. Ava would much rather have a picnic or some shit.
Not that I wouldn’t have shown up to that, too, but I digress.
Some might call it hovering. I know Alex definitely would, but it allowed her to have fun with her friends without creeps like him sneaking something into her drink, and that’s a price I’m willing to pay to see my girl enjoy herself.
Now, we’re on our way home, and she’s passed out in my passenger seat after having one too many drinks.
In her sleep, Ava makes a soft noise, and I look over at her. She looks so fucking beautiful, even with her makeup smudged under her eyes. A strange sensation blooms through my chest, almost painful, and I rub the spot, pulling down the drive to Cross Estate.
I park the car in the garage and exit, not bothering to wake her just yet.
Lifting her into my arms, she stirs, curling into my chest while I carry her inside and up the back staircase to her room.
Once we’re inside, I carry her straight to the bathroom and sit her down on the counter in front of me, pinning her there with my lower half so she doesn’t fall.
She peeks at me before groaning against the light, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Come on. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Her eyes open, finding mine. The soft green is hazy, and her pupils are dilated, but she’s got a soft, playful smile on her lips I’ve never seen before.
“Are you coming?” she reaches for my cock, still hard in my jeans, and I bite back a groan when she strokes me through the material.
Fucking. Hell.
Grabbing her wrist, I pull her off, and my dick protests. Instead, I grab a washcloth from the cabinet beside her and wet it with warm water.
“Don’t you want me?” Ava breathes, her words slurred and her soft lips pouty.
“I always want you.” Even though you piss me off more than I ever thought possible from another human being.
She’s quiet while I work on removing the makeup on her face. The shit just smears everywhere, and I grit my teeth.
“I’m doing a shit job at this, baby, but it’s better than nothing.”
She smirks lazily. “You forgot the girl.”
It takes me a minute to register what she’d said before I chuckle under my breath.
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not. You didn’t call me baby girl. You called me baby, which is different.”
By the way she’s slurring her words, she is most definitely drunk, but drunk minds speak sober thoughts, so I let her continue.
“Why are you taking care of me?” I can tell by the way her eyes shift and she sways that she’s trying to focus on me, but it’s not working out in her favor.
I don’t answer her. Instead, I toss the rag in the hamper before I take out her earrings and set them on the counter, and reach for her hand.
“You like me,” she breathes, and I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t like anything about her. I’m obsessed. There’s a difference. I know because I asked Proctor. “Don’t you,” she taunts, reaching again for my dick.
Grabbing her hand, I pull it to her lap and take her chin with my other, forcing her to look at me.
“I’m going to say this one time, Ava, because you’re too drunk to remember.
You are the only thing in my life that I have ever wanted, and the one thing I don’t want to lose.
Now. You’re going to be a good girl and let me take care of you because I have no fucking idea what I’m doing, but I want to do it right. ”
Her mouth falls open, and she lets out a sharp breath, her eyes widening at my words.
I smirk quietly to myself because at least it shut her up for a few minutes.
“Hold onto my shoulders.” I pull her to her feet, and she wobbles unsteadily while I drop down and reach for her shoes. I untie them and toss the sneakers behind me, massaging the arch of her foot with my fingers.
She won’t remember any of this tomorrow, and I guess some idiotic part of me is finding excuses to be in her space when I’m not actively fucking her.
It goes against every single one of my rules, but right now, the only thing that comes to mind is fuck the rules.
Ava giggles softly, jerking her foot, and I chuckle under my breath. I slip back up her body and lift her dress over her head. When she’s in nothing but her—tempting—bra and thong, I spin her around to face the mirror and work on brushing the knots out of her hair.
“Stop giggling at me.” She continues, and I swat her ass. Not hard enough to sting. Just enough to get her attention.
Unfortunately, it gets the wrong attention when a soft moan slips from her lips.
“Baby, you’re making it really fucking hard to be a gentleman right now,” I murmur in her ear, and press a kiss to the top of her head.
Hazy, half-lidded eyes meet mine in the mirror, and she bites her bottom lip, grinning.
I splay my hand across her stomach, my tanned skin against her creaminess.
In the mirror, we look like night and day.
“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
I grit my teeth, my patience wearing thin. Who knew my little housekeeper would be such a dirty girl when she’s drunk?
“Too bad. Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
I tug her hand, and when she opens her mouth to say something, that’s when all the vodka she drank tonight decides to get its revenge.
Her face goes pale, and she spins for the toilet, falling to her knees on the tile floor and emptying the contents of her stomach.
“Saw that coming,” I murmur, dropping behind her and gathering her hair behind her while she wretches. This isn’t my first experience with drunk vomiting, but I can say it’s the first time I’ve ever fisted a girl’s hair without my cock buried down her throat.
I do what I think is right, rubbing soothing circles down her back, but I have no fucking idea if it helps. When she’s done, she groans and lays her head on her hand and closes her eyes.
“I’m never drinking again,” she groans.
“That’s what they all say,” I chuckle. “Come on. We’ll brush your teeth and then you can go to bed.”
I help her stand and practically hold her up while she brushes her teeth. When she’s done, I stoop down and pick her up, deciding it’s probably best if I carry her to her bed. I lay her on the covers, oddly reluctant to let go of her when I grab the sheets to toss over her.
“I’m not ready for you to go yet,” she whispers, like the bogeyman is hiding in her closet, waiting for the moment I step out the door.
The air thickens, and I swallow heavily.
Bad fucking idea, Cross.
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” she asks, and I swear to God, my heart beats unsteadily for a moment. “Please?”
Fuck. If I had more time, I’d find a way to remove that word from her vocabulary. She has way too much power when she uses it on me.
Looking down at her, I push the hair back from her face, and I can see she’s fading fast. It’s only for a few minutes, so what could it hurt?
“Fine,” I murmur, bending down and scooting her over in the bed.
I climb on top of the covers, still dressed, and let her cuddle into my arms. This is the first time I’ve ever cuddled another person, and I have no fucking idea what to do with my hands, so I’m glad she’ll be too drunk to remember this.
She falls silent, her breathing soft and slow. I think she’s passed out almost immediately, before she speaks.
“I want to ask,” she says, her eyes closed as she lays her head on my chest. “Why did you show up tonight?”
It’s not until after her breathing evens out and I know she’s fallen asleep that I can bring myself to reply.
“I’d do anything for you.”
The corridor is dark, nearly pitch-black, save for a faint blue glow at the end of the hall.
I stalk toward it, looking down to find a gun in my hand.
Strange. I hadn’t even realized I was holding it.
The hallway isn’t long, but each step toward the door seems to carry me further and further away. I keep pushing because something tells me I have to get to that door.
As I draw closer, I realize where I am.
I’m at home, in the same hallway I follow every night, and that door? That’s the door.
When I reach it, I hesitate. I know I have to go in, but there’s a sinking sensation in my chest, and I’m unsure of what I’ll find.
Carefully, I push the door, and the old hinges creak from being unused for so long. The door opens, banging back against the wall behind it, and I take in the room. Everything has been stripped bare. The furniture is covered in white cloth. The canopy stripped from the bed.
The only light is from the TV glowing in the corner of the room, cackling with static.
Something’s not right.
I glance at the bed, afraid to look, but instead of him, I see her. Lying peacefully in the center of the bed, her eyes closed and her breathing soft.
“Ava, wake up.” I shake her, but she doesn’t wake. She doesn’t even stir. “Ava.”
“She won’t wake.”
I spin at the sound of the voice, raising the gun in my hand.
No one.
All that’s there are the shadows created by the static and the looming sense of foreboding.
“She’ll die here. You know it, and I know it. Everyone who loves you always does.”
“Show yourself,” I grit, only to be met with a cackle that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I know that fucking voice.
“Sweetie,” my mother purrs, stepping out of the shadows on the opposite side of the bed, only . . . it’s not here. Her face—it’s wrong. Distorted. Sharp.
Something about it sets me on edge, and I glance nervously down at Ava.
I have to keep her away from Ava.
“What are you doing to her?”