What the fuck would have happened if I hadn’t ended up on Bourbon? If I’d gone to one of my normal places?

I didn’t want to think about the alternative. When I’d stepped into the bar, my instincts demanded I scan the entire interior before ordering a drink. Even at the end of the bar, Eden hadn’t been able to hide. In a sea of drunken mindlessness, she stood out. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something.

And now, seeing her nearly unconscious, I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking vulnerable she was on her own.

She kicked her shoes off and struggled to sit up and reach behind her. “I can’t reach it. Can you?”

She had to be talking about the zipper to the dress. I sat down on the bed beside her as she turned her back toward me. But there was no zipper.

“What are you trying to reach?”

“I just want out of this dress.”

“Well, how did you get into it?”

Eden released a noise of frustration before stilling. “Crap. Side. Forgot.” She lifted an arm but fumbled with the tiny tab.

“Stop. I got it.” I tugged it down and the sides fell free beneath the sleeve.

Shit, her skin was just as smooth and white as I’d imagined when I pictured tattooing it.

I needed to step away, but she continued to struggle with the dress. This had to be punishment for something I’d done in the past. My hands itched to touch her, but I knew I had no right.

Then again, I couldn’t keep watching her struggle, so I lifted her to her feet and slipped the dress up and over her head. I told myself I’d keep my eyes on her face, but even I knew I was a shitty liar.

Her tits were fucking perfect. Her bra was pale pink with white lace around the edges and completely sheer. Her nipples were a shade darker, and she looked as sweet as I’d imagined.

I had to stop.

I dragged my gaze to hers and she stared up at me. Her expression wasn’t horrified but heated.

She liked that I looked. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lower lip, and the combination of lust and innocence made my dick harder than anything I could ever remember in the past. That’s when her gaze dropped, and I knew she couldn’t miss my reaction.

She swallowed, and after long moments, brought her attention north, but she couldn’t quite meet my eyes. I lifted a hand to her chin and tilted it up the last few degrees.

I shouldn’t have touched her. Her skin was even softer than it looked. She leaned into my touch, and that’s what fucked me over.

Just a taste, I told myself. That’s all.

I lowered my lips to hers and her hands landed on my chest, her fingers gripping my shirt and pulling me closer.

So goddamned sweet. She moaned and my cock pulsed, reminding me that it was ready to go.

I tore my mouth away and stepped back.

What the hell am I doing? She was drunk. Could have GHB running through her system. I wasn’t going to take any more fucking advantage because that would make me just as shitty as the guy who’d dumped it in her drink.

Before she could say anything, I turned and crossed to her suitcase. Yoga pants and a T-shirt sat on top. “Here, put these on.” I tossed them to her.

I waited a full sixty seconds, hoping like hell she would have covered herself by now, and then I turned.

Mistake.

She must have been struggling with her bra like she had with the dress, because now she was naked from the waist up.

“Christ, woman. Put on some clothes.”

Hurt tinged her features, but I forced myself to push down the urge to tell her that she was fucking perfect and the edges of my control were fraying.

Eden tugged the T-shirt over her head and dropped onto the bed again before curling onto her side.

“Just go. I know you don’t want to be here.”

The hurt was in her voice too, and it pissed me off that my shitty judgment had put it there.

“Someone’s gotta babysit you tonight, and I’m sure as hell not letting anyone else do it.”

Part of me expected her to tell me to get the hell out, but the only response I got was a soft snore. Out.

I lowered myself into the desk chair, her taste still on my tongue. It was going to be a long fucking night.

“FUCK ME, CUPCAKE. I GOTTA eat you up.”

Palms landed on my thighs and spread my legs.

“This is going to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

I moaned and my eyes snapped open. I expected to see my fingers buried in brown-and-gold hair, but instead all I saw was . . . tangled white sheets and an empty hotel room.

No sign of the man who invaded my dreams.

I yanked the covers up over my head to hide the embarrassment burning my cheeks, and rolled over to smother myself in a pillow. A piece of paper crumpling against my face halted my movements. I peeled it off my cheek and forced my eyes to focus as the pounding in my head ramped up.

Had to go to work. Take the Advil on the nightstand and drink the water. If you think you’re dying, call.

A phone number was written beneath.

There was no doubt who had left the note. His handwriting was bold but crisp. No fifth-grader man-scrawl for Bishop.

He’d been here. It hadn’t all been a dream.

But which parts were real?

Laying the note aside after reading it another dozen times, I rewound the timeline in my brain and stumbled onto the most important fact—I’d been drunk and he’d rescued me, again.

Because I’d needed to be rescued. Again.

With a groan, I hugged the pillow and began the process of beating myself up.

I failed at following Vincent’s orders to stay out of sight. I failed at stepping outside my comfort zone. I was failing at everything.

All I’d wanted was to experience a slice of life outside my little bubble, and I’d ended up with drugs in my drink. A shiver of apprehension rolled down my spine, followed by the prickle of cold sweat. What would have happened if Bishop hadn’t been there?

I could only imagine how ridiculous he thought I must be. How naive. How stupid.

The women he was used to probably would have seen that guy drop something in their drink and would have slapped him across the face. Or maybe punched him with brass knuckles. What they wouldn’t have done was keep drinking like an ignorant idiot.

Why did I care about the women he was used to? I shouldn’t. But for some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Maybe because he was so completely different from anyone I’d ever encountered.