The Elder by Celia Aaron

Author:Celia Aaron [Aaron, Celia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Celia Aaron
Published: 2018-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

22

Arabella

I awoke with a start, unsure of my surroundings. “Vivi?” I turned my head. This wasn’t my house.

Sitting up, I put my hand to my head. A stampede of bulls raced through my gray matter. “Shit.”

“You’re up.” Benton appeared in the living room doorway, his hair wet, his face clean shaven.

“What happened?”

He walked over and knelt next to me, his fresh, clean scent at war with my stale whiskey breath. “We drank too much—you on an empty stomach. And you fell asleep.”

A few flashes of memory ignited in my mind—Logan drinking, Charlotte drinking more, and Porter cracking jokes that had us all howling with laughter. A light snore caught my attention for a moment—Logan was passed out on the rug.

“Hey.” Benton smiled at me. He was attractive with scruff, but with a clean jaw, he was the epitome of handsome.

I felt a blush bloom from my head to my toes. “Yeah?”

“There’s a full bath at the top of the stairs. I’m making breakfast and should have it ready in about ten minutes. If you want to get washed up and fed, you’re more than welcome.” He didn’t seem the least bit put-off by my hangover.

I knew I must have looked like ass. Glancing at the clock over the mantle, I realized I had enough time to get Vivi to school, even if I showered and ate first. The good news had me swinging my feet over the side of the couch. Benton offered his hand, and I took it.

For a moment, I simply stood as the room swayed.

He rested his hands at my waist, steadying me. “I’ve got some ibuprofen for you on the kitchen counter. How about you take that first, then shower?”

How long had it been since I’d let a man get this close to me? I honestly couldn’t remember. But it felt good, so much so that I wanted to lean into him, wanted to know what it would feel like if he wrapped his arms around me.

“Arabella?”

“Hm?” I realized I’d been standing silent for a beat too long. “Oh, sorry. Yes, pills.” I had to get my head straight before starting over again for the day. The investigation needed me running on all cylinders, not nursing a hangover like a lightweight. “Okay.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing me to his side, and walked me into the kitchen. I could have done it myself, but he was warm and sturdy, and he smelled like an expensive bar of soap. No Irish Spring for Mr. Benton King.

A bowl full of cracked eggs sat on the counter, a whisk to the side, and a cast iron griddle rested on the stove top.

I swiped the pills from the granite countertop and downed them with a gulp of ice water. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He stayed at my side. “Let me help you up the stairs.”

“I think I can manage.” I ignored the thrill that shot through me when I thought of the two of us together in the bathroom, him undressing me for a shower.

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