Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
He’s right. I might hate the lifestyle I was brought up in, but there are certain things that are so ingrained in me that I can’t help it.
“Do you think you’re going to be sick?” Peyton asks softly.
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Let’s get you to bed. You’re in no shape to be walking home.”
I don’t even bother fighting him on it. He guides me to his bed and pulls back the covers for me to climb in.
Once he empties the trash under his desk and puts the empty container beside me, he tucks me in and kisses my forehead. But in a flash, he’s gone, and I reach out for his hand.
“You’re not staying with me?”
“I’m just going to kick everyone out, and then I’ll be back.”
“You don’t need to tell them to leave for me.”
Peyton smiles. “It’s cute you think I’m doing it for you. I’m doing it because I want to spend my night with you, and I don’t trust any of those bulldozer teammates of mine to not do damage to the house.”
I smile back.
He wants to spend his night with me even though we’re not going to hook up.
Peyton Miller is making it really hard not to fall for him.
It’s only a few hours later when I wake to that familiar queasy feeling in my gut but an unfamiliar body next to mine.
I roll over to face him, relieved when I see Peyton’s peaceful face and not some rando. Even better, I didn’t sleepwalk into Brady’s room and accidentally cuddle up next to him. I’ve been known to sleepwalk when drunk. Hasn’t happened since high school, where I’d go to bed in my room and wake up in the guest bed or asleep on the couch in the stuffy library, where my dad kept all his law books. But with how drunk I got, it was a real possibility tonight.
I need some painkillers. My head pounds already, and it’s still dark out. When I fish out my phone from my pocket, I see it’s only 3:00 a.m.
I unceremoniously roll out of bed and almost fall flat on my face. I’m not drunk anymore, but I definitely think I’m dehydrated. I stumble into Peyton’s bathroom, checking the cabinet and drawers for Tylenol or anything equivalent. There’s nothing.
Maybe they keep it in the kitchen. Or the second bathroom, which I know is in this house somewhere. I just don’t know where.
Whenever I needed to go last night, I’d use Peyton’s because he said all of his friends know that his bedroom is off-limits, and if anyone is caught fucking in there, they have to buy Peyton new bedding. Mattress and all.
When I get to the hallway, low murmurs come from somewhere, so people must still be here, even though Peyton said he was going to kick everyone out.
My eyes are bleary as I move down the hall into the living room on my way through to the kitchen, but when they come into focus, I have to wonder if I’m sleepwalking after all and having a really weird dream.
Peyton’s brother, Brady, is sitting sideways on the couch, shirtless, making out with some guy, but what throws me off guard is the second guy behind him, sucking on Brady’s neck and rubbing his hands all over Brady’s chest and down, down—
I should not be watching this.
Though I can see now what Peyton means about Brady liking bigger guys. They both look like they could snap Brady in half, and Brady is not small.
I turn to go into their kitchen, but in my still half-asleep state, I miss the entryway and clip my shoulder on the frame. “Ah, fuck.”
I grab hold of my arm and turn. Brady and his company break apart really fast.
“Don’t mind me. Just looking for some painkillers for my hangover.” I can’t get into the kitchen fast enough, but their voices travel after me.
“I thought you said your brother sleeps through anything.”
Brady huffs. “That’s not my brother. That’s someone I thought went home already. Go to my room. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I pretend I can’t hear them and search the drawers in the kitchen, but Brady’s presence is domineering as he enters the room.
He steps up right behind me and opens a cabinet above my head. “Everything you need is up here.”
I refuse to look at him, and I’m pretty sure my cheeks are red with how hot they are. “Thank you.”
I experimented a lot in college, but when I say that, I mean with, like, toys and sex positions. Not multiple partners. At once.
It’s not a huge deal to me. You know, you do you. Love is love. Sex is sex. It’s all … whatever. Not my business. It’s more that I interrupted them and now I can’t look Brady in the eye without blushing that makes me want to hide. I’m usually a lot cooler than this.