I arrive at the apartment complex, gather her out of the truck, and lead her upstairs. Luckily the apartment is on the second floor because I’m tempted to carry her at the rate we’re going with these steps. We no sooner make it inside than I lead her to the bathroom and encourage her to do whatever she needs to get herself ready for bed. While she’s taking a leak or brushing her teeth, I find a glass and fill it with cool water, retrieve the Ibuprofen from the pantry, and grab the kitchen trash can to bring to the bedroom in case these wine coolers come back to haunt her.

         After ten minutes of near silence, I get nervous that she’s passed out and knock on the door. “Sunny? You okay?”

         “Hmm.”

         “Babe, what’s up? Come on out so you can sleep this off.” Still nothing. I crack the door, peeking in to ensure she’s not completely naked, and find her sitting on the side of the tub. Coming closer, I lower my voice a bit. “What’re you doing, T?” As sheltered as her family keeps her, I have to remind myself this girl has probably not had many chances to drink.

         “I can’t get my pants off.”

         Well fuck. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

         She shakes her head, her hair falling like a curtain around her face.

         “Come on, Sunny. Let’s get you into bed.”

         Her facial expression is almost comical as she gazes up at me with a doe-eyed expression.

         “Are you going to remember any of this tomorrow?” I chuckle. “Up and Adam, you little temptress.” I wrap an arm around her and encourage her toward the guest room. My old room.

Once I sit her down on the edge of the bed, I watch as she attempts to wriggle out of her skinny jeans and try not to laugh out loud. Grabbing ahold of the waistband, I carefully pull them down her legs. My hands start to tremble, and I scold myself as my cock jumps in my pants. Sitting on the floor as her feet dangle over the edge of the bed, I remove one foot and then the other. Her skin is silky smooth, and I’m dying to lean forward and drag my tongue along the inside of her thighs.

         As I unfurl her pants and stand to lie them on the end of the bed, I nearly come undone. She’s managed to remove one arm from her shirt while I was wrestling with her pants. Her breasts taunt me from the lacy back bra she’s wearing. The delicate material is in contrast to the little white boy shorts she has on that are doing a number on my dick.

         “Whoah, whoah, whoah. What are you doing?”

         “Getting ready for bed.” She answers matter-of-factly, still wriggling in her shirt.

         “What? You sleep in the buff? Nevermind. Don’t answer that.” I don’t want to know. I’ll never get that vision out of my head.

         “I don’t sleep naked. But I don’t want to sleep in my bra.”

         Fuck. And now I’m thinking about her tits.

         “And my shirt smells like old beer.”

         “Were you mixing beer and fruity drinks?” No wonder she’s a mess.

         “No. Xane spilled it on me.”

         Fucker.

         “He offered to lick it off,” she laughs.

         “I suggest you stop talking or you’ll have to put yourself to sleep with one arm stuck in your shirt because I’m going to be busy ripping that asshole’s tongue from his face.”

         A mixture of a giggle and hiccup escapes, and I quickly reach for the trashcan.

         “Are you going to be sick?”

         “Nope,” she says, still squirming inside her top.

         I place the trashcan down and head for the closet, where some of my shirts remain. Returning to Tuesday’s side, I sit her up so her back is to my chest and help to free her remaining arm. “Sunny, slide your bra straps down. I’m going to slide this shirt over your head, and we can get your bra off after you’re covered.” Hell. The mere notion of taking her bra off, covered or not, has gotten me to full mast.

         “Okay,” she says. Her minty breath dances over my face.

         Once Tuesday is settled, I pull back the sheets and scoot her into bed. “You sure you don’t feel sick?”

         “Nope.” Hiccup. As her breaths get heavier, I grow weary about leaving her. What if she throws up during the night? She’s barely taking up any space in this queen-sized bed, so I slide in before I can contemplate what I’m doing.