Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
But by the time Ike pulls into his garage, I feel awful. Thankfully, he’s a gentleman and helps me out of his truck and into the house.
“I have bad news,” I say meekly, but he just shakes his head and plants a kiss on the top of my head as he guides me inside.
“No way. No bad news. We’re going to pour you into bed so you can sleep this off, and then we’ll revisit naked time. No hard feelings here at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t be silly. You’re here, in my house, and I’m putting you in my bed. I’m still the winner here.”
“You’re so—”
“If you say nice,” he says, his voice just a little harder than I’ve heard it before as he presses his lips to my ear, “I’ll spank your perfect ass, Sophie.”
I know I’m drunk, but that makes me pause. “Well, then. Okay. Remind me to say nice when I’m sober.”
He chuckles and helps me up the stairs, steers me to his bedroom, and as I sit on the side of his bed, he rifles through his dresser and comes out with a T-shirt.
“As sexy as you are in that outfit, you’ll sleep better in this.”
“Yeah.” I stand and begin to yank off my jeans, not self-conscious at all. “I can’t sleep in jeans and lace. Talk about uncomfortable.”
With the jeans thrown on a chair in the corner, I reach for the hem of my shirt and hear Ike hiss between his teeth.
I turn to find him watching me with hot eyes and realize that I’ve been stripping down right in front of him.
“Oh, sorry. I’m so sorry. My brain is just foggy, and I kind of forgot that you were standing there, not that I care if you see me naked because that’s kind of the point, but I’m not a tease, and—”
“Stop.” It’s that same firm voice from a minute ago that makes everything in me tingle. “You’re fine, Soph. Get comfortable, okay?”
“Okay.” I whip my top over my head, then quickly pull on his T-shirt, then wiggle out of my bra and pull it through the armhole before collapsing onto the bed. “If the room would just stop spinning, I’d be fine. Totally fine. If you want to go ahead and do it anyway, I think it would be okay.”
I hear him snicker, and then he’s beside me on the bed, tucking me under the covers, and presses a tender kiss to my cheek that makes me tingle in a nice way.
“The first time I’m inside you, hell, any time I’m inside you, will not be just okay. If it’s okay, I’m not doing my job. Get some rest.”
I can’t open my eyes, but my phone chimes next to my head on the nightstand.
Blindly, I reach out for it, but then I hear Ike’s voice.
“This is Sophie’s phone. No, she can’t come to the phone. Hi, Liv. How many drinks did you give her, anyway? Five? She said two.”
He laughs, but he sounds kind of far away.
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure she’ll need her purse. She’s at my house tonight, and I’m not too far from where the party was. I can swing over tomorrow and grab it for her. Oh, okay. No worries. I’ll tell her. Thanks. And congratulations.”
The bed moves as Ike sets the phone beside me, and then he kisses my cheek again and presses his lips to my ear, the way he did earlier, and my tingles have tingles.
“Liv called. You forgot your purse.”
“Yeah. She won’t steal my identity.”
He smiles against my skin, and it makes my arms break out in goose bumps. If this is my reaction to him when I’m drunk and disorderly, I can’t wait to see how I feel when I have all my faculties.
“No. She won’t.”
I snuggle down and turn toward him. “Thanks for this, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” It’s a whisper, just before he kisses my forehead. “Sleep.”
Since I can’t do much of anything else, I do as he says, and let myself slip into sleep.
I smell coffee.
It’s not the kind of smell where it’s coming from far away, either. It’s in this room. Near me.
But I live alone, and I didn’t make myself any coffee.
Hell, I haven’t even opened my eyes because my head is pounding with the beat of a thousand drums, and I think I might be dying.
It’s a real possibility.
But then someone kisses my forehead, and last night comes back vividly into my mind, and I moan.
“Good morning.” It’s a whisper, but it feels like he screamed it into my ear.
“Ouch.”
“I thought you might have a headache. Champagne always does that. I have coffee here for you, and some ibuprofen.”
“Why are you yelling?”
I risk my head exploding and flutter my eyes open, just to immediately shut them again in defense against the bright light coming in through the window. I turn my face into my pillow and will myself to just die. It would be easiest for everyone.