To take the edge off, I started on the shots and totally misjudged my tolerance levels.

Dean, however, seemed to appreciate me letting my guard down and I began to wonder if he was trying to get me drunk. He lined up a row of shots for us to do. I didn’t know what they were, only that they were better if you didn’t taste them going down.

When I picked up my last shot, Heath suddenly swooped in and removed the shot glass from between my fingers.

“Hey—” I protested.

“She isn’t used to alcohol, asshole,” he seethed at Dean.

Even in my drunken haze the sight of him set off fireworks throughout my body.

“Relax Heath, she’s an adult,” Dean said calmly.

“She’s nineteen. She’s not even legal!”

“Maybe not for Tequila.” Dean said, his eyes twinkling lasciviously as they rolled over my breasts.

Heath breathed in deeply, squeezing his eyes closed. I knew he was fighting an urge to thump Dean. Even in my inebriated state I could see the thin restraint on his face.

Instead, he turned his back on Dean to face me.

“You’re drunk Harlow. I’m taking you home before you pass out.” He went to help me up from my stool but I clumsily pushed him away and almost fell over before he caught me in his strong arms.

Dean stood up. “I’ll take her home.”

Heath shot him a murderous look. “She’s drunk. She isn’t going anywhere with you.”

“Back off Heath,” Dean warned.

Heath plopped me back on the stool and swung around. He was taller and far more imposing than Dean.

“Listen to me you asshole, I know what you’re doing but it ain’t gonna happen. Trying to get her drunk enough so you can talk her out of her clothes?” He leaned in close, his voice dangerously low. “I should beat the hell outta you for trying.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Any time you wanna try, pretty boy.”

Suddenly I felt woozy and the world began to spin.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I slurred.

Without hesitation Heath scooped me up and had me outside before I knew it. As soon as the night air blasted me, I threw up everything in my stomach.

Heath held me around my hips with one hand so I didn’t fall over, while his other hand held my hair back.

When the convulsions finally stopped, I steadied myself against him.

“I’m okay,” I murmured, a little unsure if that was true. Then remembering Dean was still inside I gave Heath an unsteady push. “I’m going back in.”

He held me tighter. “I don’t think so, Harlow. The only place you’re going is home.”

A second attempt at pushing him was equally ineffective—I was no match for those arms.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” I complained.

“I can when you have more alcohol in your veins than plasma.” He tried steering me away from the entrance of the club but I was able to shake him free.

“Let me go.” I wobbled on my high heels and shakily straightened my dress. “Don’t you have some girl to go stick your dick into?”

Heath’s eyebrows shot up but quickly evened out. “Right now I’m pretty busy trying to make sure you get home safely.”

“I’m not going home!”

“Yes you are.”

I tried to walk back towards the club but Heath stepped in my way.

Drunk, frustrated and a little bit pissed at him for being such a jerk, I thrust my palms into his chest to push him back. He didn’t budge.

“Get out of my way, you jerk!”

“If you think I’m gonna let you go back in there and get violated by that asshole, then you’re crazy.”

“He’s not an asshole. He’s hot!” I snapped, trying unsuccessfully to focus.

“You’re more drunk than I thought,” he mumbled.

Wobbling unsteadily on my heels, I said, “Where do you get off trying to tell me what to do? You don’t even like me the way you like other girls.”

I swayed and Heath grabbed my arms to steady me.

“Those may be the truest words you’ve said since opening your mouth,” he said evenly.

If I had been sober I may have felt slightly offended. But full of tequila and ridiculously drunk, his words stung me deeply. It made me feel so inadequate in comparison. Obviously, I wasn’t good enough for him like his hordes of admirers were. Or all the other girls he made scream.

Hating how I felt, I pushed him in the chest again. “You’re such a player—”

The next thing I knew, Heath lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” I yelled, wriggling my legs and slapping his back.

He ignored me and just kept walking.

“I’m. Not. Kidding,” I cried.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Heath lilted.

When he put me down we were next to his sexy sleek Challenger and Heath was bundling me into the passenger seat.

“Just so you know H-bomb, if you puke in it, you clean it. Got it?”

Before I could process the thought in my punch-drunk brain, he was beside me in the driver’s seat and the engine roared to life. My head lolled to the side as the lights of the city blurred past.

“Just for the record, I want you to know I am not drunk,” I slurred.

He glanced sideways. “Just for the record, I want you to know that you are fall-down drunk.”

My head lolled about and rested to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, the defined line of his chiseled jaw sharpened in the street light.

Goddamn it he’s hot, I thought before rolling my head to the side and passing out.

Chapter Ten HEATH

Drunk girls weren’t exactly a favorite of mine. God knows I’d come across my fair share of them. They filled the clubs and a lot of them were our fans, so I respected them for being loyal to the band and our music. But they could be difficult. Demanding. Insistent.

Trouble.

So I was used to how it played out. They got drunk. And things came out of their mouths that they might not ever say if they were sober. And they did things—things they might regret later. Including throwing drinks at me because they expected something more from me, when I had never offered it to them in the first place.

So when Harlow threw her arms around my neck and began to gently nuzzle my throat, despite the fucking amazing pleasure it sent coursing through me, I had to remind myself that it wasn’t real. She was drunk and I was helping her into my house where I planned to put her to bed and nurse her until she sobered up. That’s all. Nothing more. She had insisted she didn’t want to go back to her house, so I brought her back to mine, where she was safe and I could make sure nothing happened to her.

But, Jesus Christ, the way she was nuzzling my neck with those amazing lips of hers. I felt it all over my body. Every touch of them against my neck and shoulder sent me as hard as a fucking torpedo. It was driving me crazy. She would only have to put them on my mouth and I would lose all self-control.

Jesus Christ.

“Why don’t you look at me like all those other girls?” she slurred, her head lolling about like one of those dog statues you see in the back of an elderly person’s car.

“Because you’re not like all those other girls.”

She frowned and I wondered if she was going to throw up again but she wriggled free to stand up. Which was a bit of relief because I needed to unlock the front door and was wondering how I was going to do it with her in my arms.

Once inside she saw the pool through the dining room window and twirled back towards me, excited.

“I want to swim!”

Which is just what you want to hear from someone who has a belly full of alcohol.

“Um, no … not a good idea, H-bomb,” I said throwing the keys, my wallet and cell phone into the bowl beside the front door.

Not that Harlow would ever listen to me. She had already made it across the dining room and was out on the patio before I caught up to her.

"Alcohol and swimming do not mix, Harlow. Let me get you some aspirin and put you to bed.”