Huffing out his frustration, he shifted in the chair, bringing his ankle up to rest on the opposite knee. His foot bounced and a tense restlessness surged through him—from his anger, from his guilt, from the unfulfilled need still simmering below the surface. And didn’t that make him an even bigger asshole.
He forced his gaze away from Haven and scanned it over the room. But there was really nothing distracting enough to look at. All the guest rooms were the same, and he’d been in them countless times over the years.
On a soft moan, Haven curled onto her side, facing him. She drew her knees up so she lay in a ball, and the movement knocked something to the floor.
Her notebook. The one she’d been writing in the day he’d asked about her past. The one she’d been so protective of.
Dare studied the book for a long moment. Finally, he scooped it off the floor. He examined the plain cover, and curiosity urged him to open it. Maybe it was a diary, and he’d find in its pages whatever it was she was holding back. Because his gut told him there was mostly definitely still something.
His gaze flickered to her beautiful face, just feet away from him. He remembered the look she’d worn as she’d come down from the high of her orgasm. All filled with blissful satisfaction and worshipful adoration.
Sonofabitch.
After all the other ways he’d wronged her tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to flip the book open. He tossed it onto the table beside the bed.
Dare blew out a long breath, figuring he might as well get comfortable. He rested his head on his fisted hand and closed his eyes, but then he caught the faint scent of her arousal still clinging to his fingers. As if he needed the additional reminder of what he’d done.
“Jesus,” he bit out. He shoved up from the chair and crossed to the bathroom. As he washed his hands, he met his own disapproving gaze in the dark mirror. She was so drunk that she puked and passed out, asshole.
He threw the towel onto the counter and braced his hands on the edge, his head hanging down on his shoulders. How the hell was she supposed to trust him when he’d taken such advantage?
Dare didn’t know. He only hoped she could forgive him. And it would start by his promising it would never happen again.
CHAPTER 10
Haven awoke on a groan. Her stomach was sour and unsteady, and a dull ache pulsed behind her temples. Her mouth tasted like a wasteland, and opening her eyes revealed that the world was still a little spinny around her.
A hand stroked over her hair. “Take this, sweetie.”
“Cora?” Haven croaked.
“Yep.”
Haven forced herself to look at her friend sitting on the edge of the bed. “What time is it?” And how had she gotten in bed? She didn’t remember coming up there last night.
“Nine,” Cora said. “Not too late. Here.” She held out a fizzing glass of water toward Haven. “It’ll help your stomach and your head.”
On another groan, Haven pushed herself into a sitting position and accepted the glass. She took a sip and grimaced. “Tastes so bad.”
“I know,” Cora said. “But in fifteen minutes, you’ll thank me.”
Haven sucked the fizzing water down in a couple big gulps, just wanting to be done with it. When she lowered the glass, she noticed she still wore her clothes from last night. From the party.
The party.
Drinking at the bar. Kissing Dare. Him making her come with his fingers. Getting sick.
“Oh, my God,” she rasped, pressing her hand to her mouth.
Cora placed her hand on Haven’s knee. “I’m so sorry I let you drink too much. I thought since Jeb made most of them so small, you’d be okay.”
Haven shook her head and waved her hand. “That’s not your fault and not what I’m freaking out about.”
Cora pressed her lips together, clearly trying to restrain a smile. “Freaking out about Dare then?”
Gasping, Haven nodded as the details started coming back to her. She didn’t know what to be more humiliated about—throwing up in front of him right after having one of the most amazing experiences of her life, or not remembering what happened afterward. “Wait, how did you know that?”
“Well, first of all, you left the party with him,” Cora said, her eyebrow arched. “And then you didn’t come back. But mostly I suspected that was what it was about because when I came in to check on you after the party, I found him sitting in that chair.” She nodded to the blue armchair in the corner.
Haven’s gaze cut to the chair. Now empty, obviously. “He was here?”
“He said you got sick and asked if I’d keep an eye on you. And then he left. That was around two-thirty.”
“What else did he say?” Haven asked, her mind struggling to process this information.
“Nothing,” Cora said, eyeballing her. “But he seemed, I don’t know, agitated. So I’m guessing there’s a good story involving the time between when you left together and I found him in here.”