The music was too loud and Sienna’s head was pounding. It was too soon to be wearing a dress so tight she actually had cleavage and spiked heels so tall she felt like she would fall on her face. But Megan said she looked killer when she helped pick it out. And if she happened to come across Layton while out, well, dammit, she wanted to look and feel like a goddess.
“Ugh!” Sienna lifted her hand and tried to block the flashing lights searching for Megan. Her friend would be pissed. But if she didn’t get out of this club this instant, she was going to have a total melt down, witnesses aplenty. When Megan appeared dancing between two very tall, very hot men, Sienna sighed and made her way over to the man sandwich.
Megan’s smoky done-up eyes lit with glee. Her brows dancing in a, look-at-these-hot-guys kind of way. She couldn’t help but smile, until she yelled to the guy behind her, “Dance with Sienna,” she said, “her ex-boyfriend is a total dick.” Megan snuggled her butt to his pelvis so close when she spoke, she could claim they knew each other more than just this one encounter. Why did that notion piss her off? Sienna frowned as a surge of jealousy straightened her spine. Never mind, she shook her head at the thought, and regretted it. Her groan washed out by the music. Grabbing her head to settle the spinning, her bed and dark room her only thoughts. She needed to get home.
The one Megan spoke to finally looked at Sienna. She barely could raise her head to see his stare. Appraising and heated his scan started at her toes, winding his way up and over every inch of her overheated skin making her tingle in all the right places, her pain momentarily forgotten. He tilted his head and his fiery gaze changed to a questioning glance that was surprisingly more open and approachable. She saw actual concern.
Sienna took him in, cataloging his attractiveness. Too perfect. She tried to clear her mind negating her interest she felt stirring. Thoughts of getting involved with another man, with perfect hair and perfect bone structure and well…perfect everything should be the last thing on her mind.
“I’m going home,” she yelled to Megan. Her friend stopped gyrating, turned and gave Sienna her full attention.
“You can’t leave yet!” Outrage rung in her tone, but Sienna knew Megan would let her do what she needed to, if she wasn’t feeling well.
“My head’s pounding,” which proved truer then she would have liked, when the song changed and the bass got even deeper, harder, and possibly even louder.
Sienna swayed as flashes of light in her vision made standing more precarious and the pounding in her head not even related a little bit to the music. The light turned to a vibrating rainbow of zigzags, the strobe lights on the dance floor nowhere near the plethora of color needling her eyes like fractured glass. She felt hands wrap around her shoulders.
“Are you okay?”
Sienna blinked and the man that went with the voice bent at his knees to look into her eyes. Her vision cleared in what she knew was only a short reprieve. Grabbing onto the man so she wouldn’t fall, she realized she was moving, bodies pushing and swaying into her, with each jostle her nausea grew.
“Megan?” She questioned, her voice floating away into the sea of bodies.
“I’m right here baby-cakes,” her best friend said, “Stuart’s got you.” She heard a masculine laugh behind her that was deeper than the man’s that was helping her. The other man must have been the one grinding on Megan earlier, she thought. Then she realized Megan had told her her rescuer’s name.
“You don’t look like a Stuart,” she mumbled, the pain in her head making speech her words slur.
He leaned in and touched his lips to her ear from behind. She would have shivered from delight, him being so close, but her head hurt too damn much. “Call me Saint.”
The next thing Sienna knew she was leaning against a very large, very tweaked out F-150 Ford Pickup.
“Sienna, Saint is going to drive you home.”
“What?” Her mind was reeling with all the things wrong about that statement. Her mind screamed the words, “I can’t go home with a complete stranger,” but the words came out on a whisper. The next thing she knew Saint buckled her into the seat. “Megan? Megan!” Both her hands held her head still as she struggled not to vomit.
“Right here, honey.”
Sienna turned her head and looked down. Megan stood at the open door.
“Stuart,” she said and then laughed as a growl came from the driver’s side. “I mean Saint, is driving you home and his friend and I are going to follow behind to make sure you’re all tucked in and comfy in bed. Her brows danced up and down again. She tended to do that when she was drunk. Okay, so her friend was useless right now as it related to driving. Great! She whined in her head. Then moaned again closing her eyes leaning back against the headrest, taking deep inhalations through her nose and out.
“I’ll be right behind you,” she said.
“Mmm.” That’s all she could utter. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
“You all set?” the low voice next to her said.
Her door slammed and she flinched. Saint started his truck and they took off. Sienna wanted to look behind her and see if Megan was following in the car, truck, whatever, behind them, but she was afraid if she moved even a millimeter, that vomit that threatened earlier would decide to make an appearance.
When the truck stopped, she didn’t move, trying to concentrate on anything but the pain. When her door opened and arms went under her knees and behind her back, and Saint lifted her into his very strong arms, she let herself fall against an extremely hard and sculpted chest. Yeah, she thought. That would do it. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
“Huh?” she muttered.
“Baby, I can’t open your door if I don’t have keys.”
“Oh, right.” Opening her eyes slowly, as if superglued shut, she looked around for her key. “Where’s my purse,” she finally asked.
She felt a feather light touch across her cheek. That felt nice. “It’s in your hand sweetheart.”
She started to float down until her feet hit her porch. Not steady on her stilettos she didn’t let go of Saint. Lifting her hand, she stared at her purse hanging from her wrist as if she’d never seen it before. Saint laughed softly, took it from her and opened it, reached in and grabbed the key.
He unlocked the door and helped her inside. He went to turn on the lights and she said, “No! Leave them off.” Sienna swayed on her feet, her voice too loud in her head. Her belly sunk and flipped with acid, her knees started to shake and sweat started to bead on her face. She needed her bed. She took a step forward and, sure enough, started to go down. And then she wasn’t. Arms lifted her up and she was floating again.
“I’m still here.”
“Okay.” She could feel the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile as he held her close, but she didn’t dare look. Any movement would bring on more nausea. She needed darkness, quiet, and if possible she needed to be completely still until she could sleep.
Sienna heard loud bangs and giggling. Megan had followed them home as she said she would. When she hit soft comforter she thanked God for the respite. It wasn’t much, but she would take it.
“Do you need anything sweetheart?”
“Pill. Larger orange bottle. Bathroom cabinet,” she said, just audible.
She heard him moving around and didn’t care if he ran across her tampons or condoms. All she wanted was a migraine pill. Sienna felt the bed depress and a calloused hand wrap around her neck, lifting her head up. She cracked an eye open and saw what she needed. It wasn’t at all the man holding the pill.
“Open up, baby.” She pressed her lips tight. This man was a stranger. What was she doing? On a shaky inhale she opened up, he set the pill on her tongue, which was so intimate she didn’t know how to feel at the moment. Saint tipped the glass to her lips. She took a sip and swallowed. With the utmost care, he let her head come down onto her pillow and gently swept away the hair falling in her face.
“You going to be alright now?” He asked.
“Mm hmm.” His fingers caressed her cheek again. Why did that feel so nice? God! She didn’t need another man sneaking in behind her already shattered shields. Layton had done enough damage to them already. Her trust of any man should be non-existent. But somehow, this man taking the utmost care with her made her feel safe.
Giggling interrupted the contemplation of all her bad choices.
“Oh, sorry,” Megan whispered, snorted, as she fell into the room.
Saint got up and looked down at her.
“You coming, man?” she heard Hot Guy Number Two say.
“Yeah,” Saint replied. He started to walk toward the door, Megan and Saint’s friend exiting before him.
Saint had just walked under the doorframe about to leave when Sienna blurted one word she wanted take back—the concept so asinine–the instant it floated past her lips.