“Okay, but this is the last one,” I tell her, taking the salt from her hand while she gets the tequila from the bartender. I do the shot just like she did, the burn filling my chest as I shove the lime between my lips. “Holy cow,” I breathe out.
“Now, let’s dance!” she shouts, and before I can tell her yes or no, she’s dragging me out onto the dance floor.
*
“Oh God, killme now,” I moan, covering my face. My head feels like it’s going to explode, my stomach feels like a million bubbles have taken up home in it, and my body feels like it’s been run over by a sixteen-wheeler.
“Go back to sleep,” a male voice that sounds like Kenton’s says and my body goes rigid.
Praying I’m wrong, I peek out from between my fingers. Nope, not wrong.What the hell happened last night?
“What are you doing here?” I ask, not sure I want to know, seeing how I’m wearing nothing but a sheet, his body is naked at least from the waist up, and his arm is draped across my stomach, his frame plastered to the length of mine.
“Sleep.” He squeezes my waist and my stomach slightly contracts.
I try to remember last night, but my brain is coming up with nothing. My whole night is blank after my second shot of tequila.
“Stop thinking and sleep.”
“I have to get up,” I tell him, trying to lift his giant arm. My body feels so weak that I stop trying after a couple of seconds.
“You were up all night. You just went to bed two hours ago. You need to sleep. I need to sleep, so stop moving around.”
My eyes widen when I realize that his very evident erection is pressed up against my leg. “I can’t remember anything,” I tell him, covering my face.
“Seeing how you drank a shit-ton of tequila last night, that’s not surprising,” he mumbles sleepily.
“Please don’t say that word.” I shake my head. Just the thought of that drink alone has my body ready to revolt. “How did I get home?”
“I’ll tell you every embarrassing detail from the time you texted me until now when we wake up later.”
“Oh God, I texted you?” I groan.
“You did. Now, go to sleep.”
“I feel sick.”
“You have nothing left if your stomach,” he says on a sigh.
“What do you mean?”
“You were sick all night.”
“This just keeps getting better and better,” I whisper.
“Sleep, babe,” he says quietly as I feel his lips against the bare skin of my shoulder; the touch has my pulse picking up.
“Why am I naked?” I ask, concentrating on the feeling between my legs. I sigh in relief when I don’t feel any tenderness or anything that would lead me to believe I did anything stupider than drink too much and send drunken texts.
“You were sick and I put you in the shower last night. I tried to give you a shirt, but you wouldn’t take it.”
“Oh,” I say, squeezing my eyes closed.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything.Much,” he says quietly, and Ican hear a smile in his voice.
“I’m never drinking again.”
“Why?” he asks, sounding surprised. “You had a good time. You just don’t know your limit. I will be having a talk with Tara. No way should she have given you shots of tequila on your first night out drinking.”
