Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Okay. Want to go first?”
“I’ve never had a one-night stand,” she says. I take my shot. “Knew it.”
I refill the glass.
“I’ve dated more than one person at the same time,” she says.
“You don’t get to go twice in a row.”
“Yes, I do. I got the last question right.”
“We’re not playing fucking Uno. You don’t get to go until someone gets it wrong,” I chuckle. “But…” I take the shot to let her know I have done that. We keep asking questions, and it turns out there isn’t a lot I haven’t done. She’s taken half a shot by the time I’m drunk. My mind is spinning and I can’t filter my thoughts.
Or my actions.
“You’ve really never had a one-night stand?” I ask, spilling tequila on the coffee table as I try to fill the shot glass. I give up and drink straight from the bottle.
She shakes her head, eyes bloodshot. “I’m like … I just … how? Because that person might be yucky.”
I laugh like it’s the most hilarious thing in the world, because everything is the most hilarious thing in the world when you’re wasted. And fuck. Lauren is the most beautiful thing in the world no matter what.
“It’s just one night.”
She shakes her head and almost falls off the couch. I grab her, then we both go tumbling, hitting the floor in a fit of laughter. I pull her onto my chest and push her hair back.
“One night,” she says softly and looks into my eyes.
“One little, harmless night.”
I don’t know what I’m doing, but suddenly I’m kissing her. And she’s kissing me back.
“Fuck,” she says and pulls away after a few seconds. “No. Can’t … can’t do that.”
“Right. You’re my friend’s sister.” Each word comes out slowly. My mind is too drunk to think logically, and for the first time, my heart rules over my head. I reach for her, bringing her closer.
“I liked that,” she slurs.
And then we are kissing again. I hold onto her, pulling her to me. I’m drunk and I’m desperate and deep down I know I’ve wanted to feel her, to taste her for such a long time that there is no stopping once I get started.
Right now, I don’t care.
“No,” Lauren says and moves off of me.
I just move my head up and down, trying to convince myself that I agree with her, that I’m not going to go back to her. I put the bottle to my lips and take a swig. I make a promise to myself. I’m not going to do anything inappropriate with Lauren. She’s off-limits.
I stand and extend a hand to help her up. She stumbles, and I catch her. Laughing, she looks up, slowly moving her face closer to mine. I should move away, turn my head, tell her no.
But I can’t
She bites her lip and moves in. She kisses me.
Lauren Winters.
Kissed.
Me.
Holy fuck. I know I’m going to break that promise.
Chapter 5
LAUREN
I’M PRETTY SURE I’m dying. Or maybe I’m already dead. My entire body hurts, my head pounds, and my mouth is drier than the Sahara. The contents of my stomach slosh around like acid and I need to use the bathroom now, but I can’t seem to get my arms and legs to work.
And I don’t know why.
I force my eyes open, knowing I’m just seconds away from peeing myself. I’m in my room, tucked under the fluffy down comforter in my bed. It’s warm yet hardly weighs anything, though right now it feels like a lead blanket trapping me against the mattress. Me and my very angry bladder that is screaming it can’t wait much longer.
My vision is fuzzy and I have to blink several times to look at the clock. It’s eleven thirty. At night? I yank my foot out from under Vader, who sleeps on my legs almost every night, and blink again. No, it’s the day.
What the hell? I’m too confused to think about it, and right now all I can think of is running to the glorious toilet. I swing my feet over the bed, realize I’m naked, then feel a wave of nausea come on. I cover my mouth and wait for it to pass. I let my eyes close, the light too much to take in. My feet hit the cold hardwood and I shuffle my way to the bathroom, tripping over something. I catch myself and look down, expecting to see a dog toy or my clothes.
I’m not expecting to see a motorcycle boot. My blood runs cold. I know that boot. I know the foot that goes in it, the leg that foot is connected to, and the body that owns them both.
Holy shit.
I know that body very well after last night. I’m suddenly dizzy, and the fear of passing out then waking up in my own urine is the only thing that keeps me from turning and looking in my bed.