The Two Week Stand by Samantha Towle

three

West

I was wrong. Four shots and another Long Island iced tea later, and she doesn’t appear to want to stop drinking even though she’s at the point of drunk where terrible decisions usually ensue.

I’m definitely feeling the buzz of the liquor. Fortunately, it’s not enough that I can’t see her back to her villa safely. Because there is no way she’s getting back there alone without getting into trouble along the way.

Honestly, I think she’d have a hard time finding her way out of the bar at this point.

But I have to say, I am impressed at her ability to hold alcohol. For such a small person, she sure can put it away. And I only know what she drank in the bar. I have no clue what she drank before she got here.

“Another drink, barman,” she slurs, lifting her hand up. Her other hand is supporting her head, elbow somehow managing to stay put.

Catching his eye, I shake my head.

“No more. I’m cutting you off.”

She juts out her lower lip, pouting, and I have the urge to bite it. “I thought you were fun, Westy.”

“Westy? Please don’t ever call me that again. And I’m tons of fun. But you’re wasted, and the only thing you need to be drinking now is water.”

“Water’s boring.”

“It’s what will save you from feeling like you’re dying in the morning.”

The bartender helpfully puts down a bottle of water on the bar in front of us.

I thank him and pop the cap on the bottle. I hold it out to her. “Down this. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to thank you tomorrow. I want another cocktail.”

“Down this, and we can talk about another drink.”

She stares at me again. Granted, her eyes are glazed and off focus, but they’re still absolutely fucking stunning.

“Fine,” she grumps and takes the open bottle from me. She drinks half of it straight down.

“All of it,” I tell her when she pulls the bottle away from her mouth. Putting my hand to the bottom of the bottle, I guide it back up to her lips.

“You’re really bossy, you know.”

She has no idea.

“Stop complaining and finish the drink.”

She sticks her tongue out at me, but she finishes the water. “Happy?” she says, putting the empty bottle down on the bar.

“Yep.”

I actually am, and I don’t mean from getting her to drink the water. I’ve had a lot of fun with her tonight. I’ve laughed a fuck of a lot. She’s a funny drunk. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed the company of a woman who I’m not actively fucking or knowing that I will be at the end of the night.

Although I plan on broaching the fucking thing with her tomorrow. When she’s sobered up.

“Now, I get to have another drink.”

“Bar’s closing,” I lie.

She looks around. The bar has filled up since she arrived earlier, and everyone is still sitting at tables.

“People are still here.”

“They’ll be leaving in a minute. We should go now to avoid the rush.”

“But you promised me another drink!” she whines.

“And you can have one when you get back to your villa.”

“I have none left. I drank everything in the minibar and the fucking free champagne they left.”

“You’re complaining about free champagne?”

She frowns. “No, the champagne was decent. It was supposed to be a gift for the newlyweds for our fucking honeymoon.”

Oh. Shit.

I knew she was here alone and had an ex. But I didn’t know she was here on her honeymoon, alone.

No wonder she’s hammered.

“You can have a drink at my villa. My minibar is stocked.”

“You haven’t got fucking honeymoon champagne, have you?”

“Nope. Like I said, no girlfriend or wife.”

“I haven’t got a husband or a fiancé anymore, but I still got the fucking champagne.”

I can see her eyes starting to water, and I don’t want her to start bawling in the bar.

“Come on. Let’s get you back.”

I slip off my stool and help guide her off hers. I wrap my arm around her waist. She’s so fucking tiny.

She falls into my side, and I walk her out of the bar and into the night air.

“Think I’m a little drunk,” she slurs as I start to walk us in the direction of the villas.

“No shit.” I laugh. “Where are you staying?” I ask her.

“The nice water villas.”

“Number?”

“I can’t remember.” She laughs.

This should be interesting.

“It’s at the end of the jetty. It’s one of the nice ones. I’ll know it when I see it.”

“You know, they all look the same; the only difference is the numbers on them.”

“I know, duh,” she says drolly. “It’s the old ones.”

“Eh?”

“Old. Well, not old. Another word for old.”

It takes me a good fucking minute to figure out that she means senior.

“You mean, the senior water villas.” I chuckle.

“That’s it!” She snaps her fingers in recognition. “I’m in the end one.”

“I’m in the end one too.”

Her head tips back, and she looks up at me. “No way!”

“I’m in seventy-nine. So, if you’re at the end, you’re staying in seventy-eight.”

“That’s the one!”

She pats my chest with her hand. I have to force myself to ignore the way I feel at the contact of her hand on me.

“And your chest is really hard. Wowsers.”

Fucking hell.She’s killing me here.

“Like really hard.”

Her fingers are pressing against my pecs, and I’m fighting down the urge to kiss her.

She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

I pull in a deep breath through my nose and get a lungful of her.

“You’re really tall,” she says quietly, still staring up at me.

“I’m normal-sized. You’re just tiny.”

Her brow furrows. She looks fucking adorable. Like a kitten trying to be a tiger. “I’m normal-sized, thank you very much.”

“I’m a whole person taller than you.”

“You’re just freakily big.”

I laugh. “I’m six foot three. Ergo normal.”

“Maybe for a guy. Woman here, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Shit, my voice has gone husky, and she’s still staring up at me with those big blue eyes.

I really wish she weren’t drunk right now. If she were sober, I’d be kissing the shit out of her and carrying her back to my villa, where I would spend the rest of the night fucking her.

But sadly, the only fucking my dick is doing tonight is in my hand.

“Come on—”

“Ooh, look at that!” Before I have time to blink, she’s walking away from me and weaving across the sand toward the water’s edge, where a crab is standing. “It’s a crab. Fuck me, that’s a big crab!” She laughs, stumbling a bit.

“It’ll bite your foot off,” I tease.

She stops and looks back at me. “Really?”

“No.” I chuckle. “But it’ll probably try to nip you with its pincers if you get too close.”

And she is pretty close now that I’m looking.

She takes a measured step back, and out of nowhere, the crab runs at her.

She screams and runs straight for me. The next thing I know, I’ve got a drunk Dillon plastered to my body.

“Help me!” she wails. “I don’t want to get bitten by that crab!”

I start laughing. I can’t help it.

The crab stopped the minute she bolted for me. And for a drunk chick, she sure could move, and she jumped on me like a fucking Olympic hurdler.

“It wouldn’t bite you.” I laugh. “Only nip.”

But its pincers are big as fuck, so it would definitely hurt.

“I don’t want to get nipped!” she wails. “Why aren’t you getting us out of here?! It’ll get you now!”

“It’s still over there.” I point to where it is, watching us. “It stopped the second you screamed. I think you scared the shit out of it.”

“I scared it?! Fucking thing ran at me!”

Then, I become very aware of the fact that she’s wrapped around me. Her legs hooked around my waist. Arms around my neck. Her face pressed to my chest.

I can feel the heat of her through my clothes. I can smell her.

I know I wanted her legs around my waist, but I was thinking when she was sober and we were both naked and in my villa. And there wasn’t an ugly-ass crab staring at us.

I can feel my dick starting to sit up and pay attention, and I need her off me before he salutes her in the ass.

Shit.

“I think you’re safe to get down now.”

“No fucking way! I’m not getting down there.”

“You’re fine. It won’t bother you.”

“Ha! Yeah, right. I bet you the second I put a foot down there, that bastard will come for me. I’ll stay up here, where it’s safe, thanks.”

Fucking hell.

I can’t exactly force her to get down, and I can feel my dick getting harder by the second. I’m gonna have to carry her back to the villa—quickly—and think of anything but sex the whole time.

I set off swiftly, and she makes a noise of surprise and holds on to me tighter.

I should secure her, so she doesn’t fall off. Hold her or something, but if I put my hands on her … it’s game over. She’ll know exactly how much my dick likes her up here on my body.

Fuck’s sake.

I get us back to the villas in record time. I practically sprinted here. She’s lucky I’m an athlete; actually, it’s me who’s lucky because I don’t know how much of carrying her I could have endured without doing something stupid.

She’s got her head lying on my shoulder now. I hope she hasn’t fallen asleep.

“We’re here,” I tell her.

“Uh, wha …” She sounds sleepy.

“We’re at your villa.” I walk up the steps to her villa—well, I’m hoping it’s hers. “Number seventy-eight. That’s you, right?”

“Yeah.”

She makes no move to get down.

“You got your key?”

“My key?”

“Yeah, you know, the thing that unlocks the door.”

“Oh, yeah, it’ll be in my pocket.” She loosens her hold on me and slides down my body.

I’m a strong man. But fucking hell, that was torture.

She lands on her feet and starts patting at her legs. “Oh.” She laughs. “I haven’t got any pockets.”

“So, where’s your key then?”

“Um … in my bag.”

“You didn’t bring a bag into the bar with you.”

“Oh. Oops.” She laughs again. “Guess I don’t have my key. I’m really tired.” She leans against the door and starts to slowly slide down to the floor.

“Whoa there.” I grab hold of her, keeping her up. “Are you saying you’re locked out?”

“Probably.”

Probably?

“No worries. I’ll just sleep here.”

“You are not sleeping in the doorway of your villa.”

It’s either go to reception and get a key to her place—and that means carrying her back there because I can’t leave her here. Or she stays in my place.

For fuck’s sake.

Sighing, I make a decision. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“Uh … no sex though. You’re super hot and all, and I definitely would, but I’m tired. ’Kay?”

Chuckling, I say, “Come on.” I pick her up, and I carry her over to my villa.

Reaching the door, I remember my key is in my fucking pocket.

“Get the key from my pocket.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Dillon. Key. In my pocket.”

“ ’Kay …”

Sighing, I balance her on my thigh, get the key from my pocket, and then unlock the door.

Walking inside, I kick it shut behind me and walk straight over to the bed, where I lay her down.

“Oh, hey.” She opens her eyes, looking up at me. They’re glassy but still pretty as fuck.

“I’ll grab you some water and Advil.”

“Hey … you promised more alcohol. And no tablets. Tablets bad.”

“Okay, no tablets.”

“And no water.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get you some liquor.”

“Ah, perfect. You’re so lovely … and gorgeous …” She pats my cheek with her hand.

Chuckling, I go over to the mini fridge. Grab a glass. Get out a water and pour some into the glass. I take it over to her.

“Here you go.” I hold the glass out to her.

“What is it?” She squints at the glass, attempting to sit up.

“Vodka. Neat.” I’m such a liar, but she’ll thank me in the morning.

“I love vodka!” She claps her hands together and then grabs for the glass.

She throws the drink back, and I wait for her to realize that it’s actually water.

But she doesn’t.

“Man, that’s good! Can I have some more?”

“Sure.” I suppress a grin. “I’ll pour you a bigger one this time.”

“Perfect.”

I go over and empty the bottle into the glass. I am not prepared for what I see when I turn around.

She’s standing up on the bed, and she’s taking her fucking clothes off.

Jesus fucking Christ. I grip the glass so hard that it almost shatters.

“What are you doing?” The words come out strangled.

Her top is off, and there are inches of soft, pale skin.

“It’s too hot!” she whines.

She starts pushing her leggings down her hips, and I’m just standing here, knowing I should stop her, that she’s too drunk to know what she’s doing, but fuck me … she’s hot.

Nope. Stop. She’s drunk.

I avert my eyes when her leggings hit mid-thigh. Putting the glass on the table, I grab the comforter off the end of the bed. I hold it up and wrap it around her body, covering her.

“Hey, what’re you doing? I’m hot!”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning. Now, lay yourself down.”

“Where’s my drink?”

“Lie down, and I’ll get it for you.”

She does as I asked, thankfully keeping the cover on her.

I get the water and carry it over. I sit down beside her on the bed and hold out the glass. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She takes the drink but only sips it this time.

I take it when she holds it out, and I put it on the floor by the bed, so she can find it if she needs it during the night.

“You’re a good guy, West.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew me.”

“I know bad. My ex was bad. Really bad … he cheated, you know.”

“He sounds like a dick.”

“Prick.” She laughs. “He’s a prick. And a twunt.”

“Twunt?” I question.

“Twunt—because sometimes, twat and cunt just aren’t enough. I have that on a mug. It’s one of my favorites. I also have one that says, Twuntasaurus—like a normal twunt but more awesome. That one has a picture of a cute dinosaur on it too.”

“Well, twunt is now officially my favorite word.”

She smiles big, lighting up her whole face, and if I wasn’t sitting down, it would have knocked me on my ass. She really is beautiful.

“I have this really funny mug that I got as a Secret Santa gift last Christmas. It says, Finger up the bum, no harm done.” She snort-laughs, and then her brows draw together. “Actually, I never did find out who bought it.”

“I’m getting the impression that you really like mugs.”

“I do. I love them. I have a whole collection of Disney ones too.” She sighs, and the sound is soft and sweet. “You know, they’re all in boxes at the moment, sitting lonely and unused in my aunt Jenny’s garage because I’m officially homeless. I’d given up the lease on my place to move into the prick’s house. But you know, obviously, that’s not happening, so I’m staying with Aunt Jenny, who is awesome—you’d love her—until I can find another place. Ugh.” She groans, slapping a hand to her face. “I honestly don’t know what I was thinking! I don’t even know why I was going to marry him. You know, he was the worst in bed. Total worst! He needed a map just to find my vagina. And I don’t even think a satnav would have gotten him to my clit.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. She really needs to stop talking about her vagina and clit. Because I’m already imagining how her pussy tastes.

“Well, I’d say, you had a lucky escape,” I say to move my thoughts away from her pussy because I’m not getting anywhere near it tonight.

“Yeah.” She sighs an unhappy sound.

I’m just here, wondering how this bad-in-bed, cheating prick of a guy managed to land a gorgeous girl like Dillon.

“I’m just sad, you know,” she continues. “Not so much about him. He was just a small blip in the landscape of my life—my aunt Jenny told me that. Yeah …” Another sigh. “I’m just really sad about my mum.”

“Your mom?”

“Uh-huh. It was my mum he was cheating on me with. They were having an affair. I walked in on them kissing a few weeks before he and I were supposed to get married. They were at her house. I’d let myself in. I was there to go finalize the seating plan with her. And they were right there in the kitchen, going at each other.

“Apparently, they’d been sleeping together for three months. Three fucking months! Literally from the moment I’d introduced him to her. Because, you know, that’s what girls do—take the fiancé to meet the mother! He drove her home that night, and he was gone a while, told me that he’d had car trouble. Yeah, right. I bet that was the night it started.

“I know my mother. She doesn’t waste any time when she’s after a man. God! There I was, asking her to help me plan the wedding, asking her to give me away on my wedding day because she’s the only parent I’ve ever had. Desperately trying to bond with her because our relationship has always been difficult. And she said yes to it all. She even helped picked my wedding dress! And all that time, she was screwing my fiancé!” She lets out this strangled noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a cry.

“I can’t even say it without wanting to puke. I was sleeping in his bed with him, and so was she. God, it’s just disgusting and incestuous! The day I found out, I literally puked. I threw up everywhere, and then I scrubbed my body raw in the shower. I just needed to get clean. Get their betrayal off me. But even now, I still feel … gross.” A soft cry slips past her lips. “My mum always told me that I was stupid. Guess she was right.”

She blinks up at me with wet lashes, those eyes filled with hurt. I have the sudden urge to squeeze the life out of the fucking moron who hurt her, and I’d never lay a hand on a woman, but I might make an exception for her mom.

“You’re not stupid, Dillon.” I soften my tone even though I feel a confusing amount of anger toward the two people who hurt this woman that I barely know. “They are. To even contemplate doing that to you, let alone actually doing it … it’s cruel.” I shake my head. My dad is an asshole, but even he wouldn’t stoop that low. “And I’m sorry to say this, but your mom sounds like a total twunt.”

She laughs through her tears, and I’m glad that I could at least make her smile when she’s feeling so sad.

“She is a twunt.”

I reach out, and using my thumb, I wipe a tear from her cheek. She blinks up at me, all wide blue eyes and innocence.

“They’re both twunts who aren’t worthy of you. And I know it hurts now. But it won’t soon.”

Her eyes close. “Promise?” she whispers.

And something in my chest splinters. I rub my hand against my chest, trying to erase the weird sensation I’m feeling.

“I promise. Good things will happen for you, Dillon. I know it.”

Because good things are owed to people who suffer the awful. Well, that’s what my mom always said. But it never happened that way for her. I really hope it does for Dillon.

“West?”

I brush strands of her hair off her forehead, and her eyes open and close slowly.

“Yeah?”

“I … I …” Then, she passes out.

I chuckle to myself. Then, I turn her onto her side in case she pukes during the night. Actually … I grab the trash can and put it beside the bed, so I won’t have to clean up vomit off the floor.

I grab some sleep shorts, turn out the light, and head into the bathroom to change out of my clothes and brush my teeth.

When I exit the bathroom, I navigate my way through the room in the dark. Stopping by the bed, I look over at Dillon, fast asleep in my bed, snoring lightly.

A total stranger to me only a few hours ago, and now, I know what brought her to the island and into the bar, drunk and straight into my path.

Sure, she’s hurting now, but I’m going to make her time on this island good until she forgets any hurt those two assholes made her feel.

I walk quietly over to the shitty little chaise at the end of the bed. It’s either this or the floor. The floor is hard as fuck, and I’m not in college anymore—when it didn’t matter where I ended up sleeping. These days, I need comfort. I’m not getting any younger.

I lie down on the chaise, not bothering with a blanket because it’s hot as balls in here, even with the AC on.

I stare up at the dark ceiling, listening to the soft, even breaths coming from the bed.

It’s the last sound I hear before I fall asleep.