Chapter 422: Drunk and Honest

Lucas slipped an arm beneath Bennett’s and pulled her out of the booth. Her legs immediately betrayed her, buckling beneath her weight. She stumbled forward, caught herself against his chest, and burst into laughter, nearly dragging them both back onto the seat.

"I’m fine," she declared, her voice thick with alcohol and misplaced confidence. "I can walk. Watch me."

She took two steps.

On the third, she nearly went face-first into the floor.

Lucas tightened his hold around her waist before she could fall, keeping her upright as he guided her towards the exit. A few people nearby turned to look, but she seemed completely oblivious to their attention. She was too busy talking, her voice carrying through the hallway as though she owned the place.

"That was a good night. The best night!" She laughed, shaking her head. "Moretti’s face! Did you see his face? He looked like someone had stolen his kidney. I swear, I want another drink."

"No more drinks."

"You’re no fun."

"Keep walking."

They pushed through the doors and stepped into the cool night air. She immediately drew in a dramatic breath, shivering as though the temperature had personally offended her. Rather than straighten up, she leaned even more heavily against him, leaving him to support nearly all her weight.

Her heel caught against the edge of the pavement.

"Whoa!"

She lurched sideways, but Lucas caught her around the waist and pulled her upright before she could hit the ground.

A small group standing near the entrance had been watching the entire spectacle. One of them snorted with laughter.

She twisted around in his arms and pointed an unsteady finger in their direction.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded. "Mind your own business! This is a private celebration!"

Lucas didn’t bother responding. He simply adjusted his grip and continued towards the black jeep parked a short distance down the curb.

Once they reached it, he knocked twice against the rear window. The driver unlocked the doors, and Lucas opened the back door before carefully manoeuvring her inside.

Getting her into the vehicle was less straightforward than he had expected. She seemed determined to go in sideways, nearly caught her foot against the door frame, and laughed throughout the entire ordeal.

Eventually, he managed to get her seated before climbing in beside her.

The moment the door closed, she abandoned whatever remained of her balance and collapsed against him.

Her head landed heavily on his shoulder, while one arm stretched across his chest as though she had just claimed the territory. Her fingers began wandering over his shirt, occasionally poking at him and tracing meaningless circles against the fabric.

The jeep pulled away from the curb.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an expression of drunken fascination.

"You’re solid."

Lucas glanced down at her.

"Am I?"

"Very solid. Properly solid." She nodded as though making an important observation. "Most men feel soft when you lean against them. Soft and disappointing. But you don’t."

She paused, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"That’s suspicious, actually."

Then she burst out laughing.

"I don’t usually say things like that. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I’ll deny everything. I’ll sue you."

Lucas said nothing.

She didn’t seem particularly interested in getting an answer anyway. Her attention had already wandered elsewhere, and she shifted in her seat until her legs were draped across his. Her head settled closer to his neck, her warm breath carrying the unmistakable smell of alcohol.

"The girls at the dealership hated me," she announced suddenly.

Lucas looked out through the window.

"I could feel it. The way they were looking at me." She shook her head, looking deeply offended by the memory. "Like I’d walked in and stolen their future husband and their commission."

A crooked smile appeared on her face.

"Maybe I did. Feels good, though."

She laughed again, seemingly amused by her own conclusion.

"Everything feels good tonight. Even this car feels good. You’re lucky I’m not kissing the window."

Lucas finally glanced at her.

"You’re making a lot of sense."

"I know. I’m very intelligent."

The drive continued through the city, streetlights passing across the windows in regular intervals. Outside, traffic had thinned considerably, leaving the roads quieter than they had been earlier.

She, however, showed no intention of settling down.

Her voice rose and fell throughout the journey, sometimes clear enough to follow, sometimes dissolving into a jumble of half-finished sentences. She talked about the Chiron, the money, the dealership, and how long it had been since she had enjoyed herself this much.

Every now and then, she would stop talking for a few seconds, only to remember something else and start all over again.

Lucas mostly let her ramble.

By the time the jeep finally pulled up outside the hotel, she had grown noticeably quieter. She was still awake, but her earlier enthusiasm had given way to an off-key hum that she seemed particularly proud of.

Lucas opened the door and stepped out before reaching back to help her.

"Come on. We’re here."

She attempted to get out on her own.

She managed to place one foot on the pavement before practically collapsing against him.

Lucas caught her.

For a moment, he considered trying to guide her inside on her feet, but one look at her unsteady legs convinced him otherwise.

He turned around, crouched slightly, and pulled her onto his back.

She immediately wrapped both arms around his neck, her cheek pressing against the side of his head.

"You’re carrying me," she mumbled, sounding thoroughly pleased with the arrangement.

"Apparently."

"Like a prince. Or a bodyguard. Or a very expensive Uber." She giggled against his ear. "Don’t drop me. I’ll be angry. And sad. And still drunk."

She paused.

"That’s a triple threat."

Lucas adjusted his hold beneath her legs and started towards the entrance.

The hotel lobby was relatively quiet at that hour. A few late guests were still moving around, while the receptionist glanced up as Lucas walked in with her hanging off his back.

One woman near the elevators raised an eyebrow.

She noticed her.

Without even lifting her head, she leaned closer to his ear and whispered loudly enough for the woman to hear.

"They’re jealous."

Lucas kept walking.

"Of what?"

"My Uber-prince, obviously."

He didn’t bother correcting her.

The elevator arrived a few moments later, and Lucas stepped inside. She remained draped across his back, occasionally humming something that vaguely resembled a song.

The moment the doors closed, she started laughing again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Because..."

She stopped, apparently forgetting what she had intended to say.

A few seconds later, she burst into laughter once more.

Lucas shook his head.

’What a handful.’

When the elevator reached their floor, he carried her down the hallway and unlocked the room. He stepped inside, kicked the door shut behind him, and carefully set her down on her feet.

The second the door closed, her behaviour changed.

She didn’t step away.

She turned, reached up with clumsy hands, and wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling herself against him like she couldn’t stand on her own. Her body pressed fully into his. The short skirt she was wearing had already ridden up from being carried, sitting high on her thighs, and she made no move to fix it.

"Stay..."

He looked down at her.

"You’re going to bed."

"Don’t you dare go anywhere."

Her fingers slipped into his hair, gripping without much control. She leaned in and pressed a messy, open-mouthed kiss against the side of his neck, then another, slower, like she had forgotten there was anything else to do. Her balance was gone. She swayed hard and almost tipped sideways.

He caught her by the arms before she could fall.

"Sit down."

She barely seemed to hear him. She tugged at the front of his shirt with both hands, trying to pull him closer, then just leaned her full weight against his chest. The soft pressure of her breasts pressed clearly against him through the thin fabric of her top. She didn’t notice. Or didn’t care.

They stumbled toward the bed. She dropped onto the mattress in a heap and immediately grabbed at his shirt again, trying to drag him down next to her. Her skirt had ridden even higher from the movement, the hem barely covering anything.

"Come here..."

He stayed standing.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy, and actually pouted.

"You’re boring."

"You’re drunk."

"I know that..."

She reached for him again. He caught her wrists before she could yank him down. For someone who had spent the whole night laughing at everything, she suddenly looked very determined in a loose, unfocused way.

She stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, cheeks flushed, words slipping out without much control.

"I like you..."

He studied her for a second.

"Do you?"

"Yeah." She nodded too hard and almost tipped sideways. "You’re quiet. You don’t... keep talking nonsense. Most men just ruin it the second they open their mouth."

She gave a crooked little laugh and patted the bed beside her with a heavy hand.

"Come sit..."

He finally sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a little space between them.

She immediately closed it, shifting until her side was pressed against his. Her skirt stayed high on her thighs. One of her hands caught the fabric of his shirt and stayed there, fingers moving without real direction.

"You’re always so calm..." she mumbled. "Doesn’t anything bother you?"

"Plenty of things."

"Like what?"

"Right now? Making sure you don’t fall off the bed."

She stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing, the sound loud and uncontrolled.

"That’s not romantic..."

"Good thing I’m not trying to be."

She gave him an exaggerated look of disappointment. Then, without warning, her expression softened into something looser and more vulnerable.

"I’ve never felt this comfortable with someone..."

The words came out quieter, more scattered, like she wasn’t fully tracking what she was saying.

"Not like this. I don’t even know why..."

She dropped her forehead against his shoulder. The movement pressed her chest more firmly against his arm. Soft. Warm. Unintentional.

"It’s weird... I keep thinking I should shut up but I don’t want to..."

He looked down at her.

She lifted her head again after a moment, eyes searching his face without real focus.

"I want you to stay... I want you to touch me too..."

Her fingers tightened in his shirt as she leaned in, trying to kiss him. The movement made her top shift, the soft weight of her breasts pressing more clearly against him.

He turned his head just enough.

"Hey."

She made a small protesting sound.

"What...?"

"You’re drunk."

"I know..."

"Then go to sleep."

Her face changed slowly, like the words were taking a long time to reach her.