I consider taking a shower, but suddenly I’m overwhelmed with fatigue. I think the rush of anger and adrenaline is draining from my body, and everything is catching upwith me. I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll crash in Cal’s bed tonight and sort everything else out in the morning.
I stumble into Cal’s room and don’t even have the energy to dig out my pajamas that I’d stuffed into my duffel. I strip down to my underwear and pull on Cal’s hoodie, which he’d left at the end of his bed, and climb in.
I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.
Chapter 3
Liam
I wake with my arm draped over the warm curve of her bare hip and her ass firmly in my lap. My dick responds as my hand wanders under her hoodie—my hoodie—and I squeeze her ample breast.
She lets out a little moan.
Somewhere in the back of my hungover, sleep haze, I try to remember if I brought that woman home from the bar last night. But she had short hair. My face is currently buried in a wild mess of curls that sprawl across my pillow. I squeeze her breast a little harder this time, needing to hear that throaty moan from her again.
Maybe this is a dream. A hot as fuck wet dream like I am a goddamned teenager, but I don’t care. My dream girl wiggles her ass tighter against my erection, and I push my dick against her thin panties and pinch her nipple.
“Uh-huh,” she whimpers. And I need to get my hand between her luscious thighs.
“Let me touch you, baby,” I whisper in her curl-covered ear. “Let me make you come.”
I slide my hand down over the swell of her belly and tease the top of her underwear. She rolls into me.
“Liam?”
“Yes, baby,” I nuzzle into her neck and dip my finger into the elastic of her underwear. Until she shoves me off her…hard.
“What the fuck, Liam!” she screams and clambers away from me. It’s still dark in Cal’s bedroom, almost pitch black, and I think I’m still drunk because I can’t remember what happened last night. But fuck, do I want to remember, I hope I worshiped every one of those juicy curves last night. I hope I feasted between those thighs.
“What…where did…what the hell?” she stammers before flipping on the light.
I throw my hands over my eyes from the painful onslaught of light when a pillow is launched at my head. “I’m serious, Liam Blake. What are you doing here?”
“What’s happening?” I mutter, pulling my hands away from my face, my eyes adjusting enough to see the gorgeous woman now standing in her underwear and my Iron Cats hoodie at the foot of the bed.
My still-drunk brain finally catches up. She’s older now, with grown-up curves, soft angles, and full lips. I barely recognize her. But she still has the same wild curls she had as a kid and the same baby blue eyes, just like Cal’s.
Realization dawns on me like a cold shower I didn’t sign up for.
I was about to finger my best friend’s little sister.
Chapter 4
Sophie
My crush on Liam Blake started the first day my brother brought him home for dinner when I was ten years old. And I didn’t understand why one of my stupid brother’s stupid friends made my tummy feel weird.
They were the only two freshmen on the varsity baseball team—Cal made it because he was tall, and Liam because he was a better baseball player at fourteen than most of the seniors. Back then, Liam had a mop of dirty blonde hair, a smattering of freckles across his nose, and he called my mom “ma’am.”
But now Liam Blake is lying in my brother’s bed, naked except for a very small pair of black boxer briefs that do absolutely nothing to hide his enormous erection. His chest is broad and tanned, his thighs thick with muscle. He has the same messy hair and freckles he had as a teen. As I stare at him, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening, I realize he still makes my tummy feel weird.
“Soph?” Liam says, blinking and climbing out of the bed. “What are you doing here?” His voice is soft and filled with concern. He reaches a hand across the bed to me, and a strange part of me wants to go to him, to have him pull me against that sturdy chest and tell me everything is going to be okay.
“What the hell areyoudoing here?!?” I shout instead. “And can you put on some fucking pants?” I cross my arms over my chest and attempt to tear my eyes away from his body, but fail miserably. I can’t stop staring.
“Sophie, I’m so sorry,” Liam says, fumbling with his jeans. “I didn’t know you were…it was…I didn’t mean to,” he tries to get out. I can’t help but notice he’s having trouble buttoning his jeans. Suddenly, my mouth goes a little dry.
“Why are you here, Liam?” I ask again, not making eye contact.
