Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Wait. Did I get his number? God I hope so.
The air mattress sinks dangerously when I sit up, leaving my butt nearly on the floor. I shake my head gently. Instant regret.
Bleh, my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. I need to drink a gallon of water, take a hot shower and brush my teeth, in no particular order.
Peeling my clothes off as I go, I let them stay where they fall like breadcrumbs in a path to the bathroom. Getting free of all that leather is glorious, like how I bet a butterfly feels breaking out of its cocoon. Even better is when the hot water first hits my face and washes over me. Closing my eyes and tilting my head back, I just stand in the spray holding my toothbrush in one hand while trying to piece the rest of the night together.
My clothes were still firmly in place, and my bed wouldn’t have survived bringing anyone home. Not like I’d dare. It’s been nearly three years since I actually let myself get close to anyone and I still haven’t forgotten that disaster.
Washing my hair takes every last ounce of energy. When I’m done, I lean against the tile and slide down until I’m sitting. It’s far from an everything shower. Nothing gets shaved, clarified, deep conditioned, or exfoliated, but I do manage to brush my teeth while sitting on the shower floor, and eventually stand up and wash off my makeup.
A win is a win. Fortunately I don’t have to be anywhere until the interview with Cliff this afternoon.
I throw on the oversized T-shirt I’ve been wearing to bed, and drag myself out of my room to figure out what I did with my phone. I hope I didn’t leave it at the club or in the car on my way home. That would suck.
I freeze mid hallway. There are boots by the door.
Holding my breath, I inch forwards until a pair of very large feet hanging over the end of my couch comes into view. It’s amazing how fast terror can clear your head.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“I’m on the phone with the police. Stand where I can see you!” I yell before ducking back into my room to panic. Maybe I can lock myself in the bathroom. I’d have water at least, right?
A man laughs, not a mean sound, but not a worried one either. “I’ve got your phone, Q.”
“Priest?” Cautiously, I slink back out, ready to dash away again if I have to. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
It’s not just him. Sinner is on my balcony drinking a cup of coffee from the cafe down the street, Colt is sitting at the counter, and Priest is stretched out on the couch holding my phone. I tug down the hem of my shirt. It comes halfway to my knees, but suddenly that doesn’t feel as modest as it should. Neither does the fact that I’m not wearing a bra and my damp hair is slowly turning the top of my shirt see through. I let go of the hem and cross my arms over my breasts.
Colt takes it all in, his eyes dragging their way up my body from the sparkly purple polish on my toes, to my makeup free face. “What do you remember about last night?”
The way he says it spikes my heartrate. “Wh—what do you mean?”
Priest stands, expression serious. “We should talk about what happened.”
“You know what? This sounds like a conversation that needs clothes.” I spin on my heels and stomp back into my bedroom.
“Not on our account” Sinner yells after me.
I pull on a pair of soft sweatpants, a stretchy yoga bra that will at least hold things in place, and a T-shirt that doesn’t look slept in. I pull my hair up into a clip and briefly consider makeup, but then they’d think I did it for them, which might be true, but is also annoying, so they get what they get.
“Alright, I’m going to need the short version of what happened last night, before I decide whether I’m supposed to thank you or call the police,” I announce when I rejoin the party.
My microwave dings, and Priest pulls a takeaway coffee cup out of it, handing it over. “I had no idea how you like your coffee but you had normal yogurt in the fridge so we went with a latte. There’s donuts on the counter.” He gestures to a box I missed sitting between the sink and the stovetop.
It’s hard to stay annoyed at people who bring breakfast. “Thank you.” I sit at the counter and take a sip of coffee. It’s overly hot from the microwave, but tastes like heaven. “Okay, start from the beginning. I remember meeting Colt and Sinner after the photos. We danced for a while, then… you showed up? We were talking about Axel, and then things got a little fuzzy.”