“You don’t think I could handle it?” he asks as a waitress comes over with a tray of tequila shots again, baffling us both.
Emma stands and walks over proudly. “We needed more shots! It’s almost midnight!” she exclaims as she passes one to each of us.
“It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it. It’s that I know you can’t,” I reply as the three of us and Emma’s make-out partner clink our shot glasses together and then sling them back. Three more shots of tequila down, and my drunken state has escalated from buzzing to not being able to feel my lips. I wince from the burn, but it’s definitely going down easier than it was earlier. And then as if tunnel vision woke up from its slumber, my vision narrows and all I see is a cocky grin plastered on Hayes’s face, glaring at me over the rim of his whiskey. His dark hair is messy, his chocolate eyes are glazed over and slightly red, and he looks like trouble with a capital T.
“You should know better than to challenge me, Beaverly,” he grates out, and the deep rasp of his voice laced with defiance has me clenching my thighs together.
But unfortunately, that’s the last thing I remember of the night, as the tequila does its job and makes me forget my slimy ex, my future that’s looming around the corner, and apparently my conscience and ability to make intelligent decisions as well—a fact that becomes glaringly obvious when I wake up the next morning in Hayes’s bed.
Chapter 2
Hayes
Did a… did a cat shit in my mouth?
I swirl my tongue around, tasting a film over my teeth and tongue that could only be described as cat feces. Of course, I don’t know that for sure since I’ve never eaten cat shit willingly, but I’d imagined this is what it tastes like.
Before I can figure out why my mouth tastes like shit, a thunderous throbbing commences at my temples, eliciting a deep groan from my throat.
“Holy hangover, Batman,” I grate out against the dryness of my throat and the non-existent cotton balls in my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter as if the movement will make the pounding subside, and then roll over, reaching for a pillow to cover the top of my head.
But my hand doesn’t meet the soft, feathery goodness of a down pillow.
No.
It meets a mess of tangled hair, long silky strands that surely don’t belong to me.
I crack one eye open, confirming the presence of a golden blonde mane belonging to a person on the other side of my bed as the smell of residual alcohol hits my nose.
Holy hell. How much did I drink last night? I remember having a glass of whiskey, walking around the club for a while, and then shots with …
Waverly.
Holy hell, I ran into Waverly last night at Dynasty. That’s right!
The warm body beside me moans, which makes my dick twitch from the sound.
Oh, fuck! Please tell me we didn’t…
“Oh… God,” the woman groans, shifting slowly onto her back as her hand reaches up to land on her forehead. And as her profile comes into focus, my stomach plummets.
Waverly is sleeping in bed with me.
Waverly’s shoulders are bare, which means she probably doesn’t have clothes on.
Waverly’s hand clutching the sheet has a band of diamonds on one particular finger…
“Holy fuck!” I scramble out of bed as she blinks and then rolls over, taking in my appearance. And then her eyes widen and she screams.
“Hayes!”
“Beaverly!”
Her head shifts on her neck, taking in the scene before her, but in the next moment, she winces, reaching for her forehead.
“Fuck, shit, fuck! This isn’t good… this can’t be happening …”
“Stop yelling! My head,” she whines.
I stare down at her from the side of the bed I’m standing on now as my pulse races. “Holy fuck, Wave. We didn’t… Did we have …?”
She slowly lifts the sheets from her body, peering underneath before directing her gaze back at me. Mascara is in streaks across her face, her hair looks more like a rat’s nest, and her cheeks are flushed a lady-like shade of pink. “Well, I honestly don’t know. I sleep naked normally, so the fact that I’m waking up naked right now doesn’t really answer that question.”
“Fuck.” The notion that Waverly is naked just a few feet away from me under that sheet makes my dick even harder than it was before now, an unwelcome predicament at the moment and one that hasn’t happened before at the thought of my best friend’s little sister. I glance down, noticing the fucker tenting my boxer briefs just as Waverly registers the sight as well.
“Oh my God, Hayes! Put your boner away!”
“It’s morning, Beaverly. I can’t really help it!”
“Was that thing inside of me? Did we… did we honestly sleep together last night?” Her eyes widen with worry, but she’s yet to discover the real artifact from last night we should both be questioning.
“Wave, I don’t know. Do you… do you feel like we had sex?”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
I shrug and throw my hands up in my hair. “I don’t know! Does your pussy feel thoroughly satisfied?”
“No.”
“Then we didn’t have sex, because if we did, you’d know I was down there.”
With a roll of her eyes, she brushes her hair from her face and then lies back down on the pillow. “It feels like my vagina is the same,” she declares as her hand dips below the sheet and I see movement between her legs.
“Christ,” I grumble, twisting my back to her so I can’t watch her diddle herself, even though knowing she’s touching herself is not helping my erection problem at all.
“Stop touching yourself for the love of God, Waverly.” I tilt my head toward the ceiling, focusing on breathing just as I hear her burp and then whisper, “Oh, no.”
I turn around just in time to catch her bare backside
