“Morning, Bris.”
I clench my eyes closed and silently curse, dread lining my stomach. Or maybe that’s nausea. There’s a bass drum banging in my head, and I could vomit on my Egyptian cotton sheets any minute now. I struggle to bring the room into focus as the details swim in front of me. This is the worst scenario. I could have had meaningless sex with a stranger, but nooooo. Instead, I had meaningless sex with the man who has been obsessed with the idea of marrying me since we were ten years old. Meaningless sex that will mean something to him.
Oh, this will end marvelously.
“Parker?” I ask tentatively.
“I hope so.” His husky laugh blows the hair at my neck. “Last night was amazing, Bristol. Even better than before.”
“Before” set a low bar from what I recall. The orgasm I had in that coat check was the only time Parker got me off. And I think the threat of getting caught probably helped a lot then. After that, I touched myself more than he did every time we had sex. A girl’s gotta DIY when he isn’t getting it done. The story of my sex life.
I bet Grip would get it done.
Since when did my vagina start talking back to me? Maybe I’m still drunk. I hope so. God, please let this be a drunken hallucination. Parker’s fingers wandering between my legs confirms it’s happening.
“Um, Parker.” I turn over, pulling the sheets over my naked breasts. “Last night is kind of hazy. I’m not sure how we . . . did we . . . you know.”
“Fuck?”
Blond hair falls into his blue eyes brimming with laughter. He looks good in the morning. I remember that now, but it doesn’t make up for how overbearing he is the other twenty-three hours of the day.
“Uh, yeah.?
? My cheeks fire up. I’m blushing? Apparently, even I have some shame. Remembering who was inside you last night must be one of my standards. “
Yes, we fucked.” He leans over to kiss my neck. “We took the jet back from Vegas.”
“I thought we took a helicopter?”
How drunk was I?
“We took a helicopter there and the Park Hotel jet back.” He kisses my shoulder. “We kissed in the car."
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. This is worse than I thought.
“And then we came here and made love." His hand explores under the sheet, gripping my thigh and pulling my knee over his hip. “You still give the best head, Bris.”
Oh. Dear. God.
Do I still have disposable toothbrushes? No way I’m using my electric. I assumed my tongue felt furry and sticky from too much alcohol. Apparently Parker’s dick was down my throat last night. I don’t typically swallow, but I also don’t typically sleep with Parker. I want to purge the contents of my stomach just in case. I want to purge the contents of last night. To make it go away, flush it down the toilet like it never happened. All signs indicate it did happen, though. And from Parker’s growing erection, he thinks it will happen again. Not when I have all my faculties.
I roll out of the bed, and it feels like my head keeps rolling. Dizziness assaults me, and I stumble back to the mattress. I look over my shoulder to find Parker watching me intently.
"You okay, Bris?"
Do I look fucking okay?
I nod as much as my pounding head will allow, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it toga style to cover my nakedness.
“Parker, I hate to rush you off," I lie. "But I have an appointment this morning.”
He looks at me like I’ve disenfranchised him somehow. Like it’s his inalienable right to screw me before breakfast.
“Re-schedule or—”
“No, sorry. This is can’t-miss.”
I shuffle to the bathroom, making sure the sheet covers the vital parts even though he’s seen and sampled them all. When I look back, he’s propped against my tufted headboard like he has all the time in the world, sheet down to his waist, hands folded behind his head.