Don’t throw up.
I wait for the feeling to pass and then drag my hand through my hair, tugging so that the pain will bring me to my senses and help me remember.
“What the fuck happened last night?”
Jimmy shrugs. “I don’t remember. But we can’t have?—”
“No. We can’t have. We wouldn’t have—” Oh, God, but from the feel of my arse, I’m pretty sure we did. I groan and bury my face in my hands, breathing deeply and slowly. I look up sharply. Pain lances through my skull. “Did we—?” Wide-eyed, I glance around. I don’t see a condom anywhere. His dick isn’t gloved up. “No. No. No. This isn’t happening.”
“We didn’t.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure?”
He gulps. “No. But I wouldn’t have. You’re— My brother’s— Mytwin’s— I wouldn’t.” He rubs his neck and then taps his temple, his face contorting. “Oh, shit. I think we did.”
Why is he sitting there with everything on show? I don’t even want to think about how ripped he’s got since I last saw him. He’s— No. I can’t go there. I can’t.
“It’s coming back to me,” he says.
It’s coming back to me, too. Only in bits and pieces, but enough to be certain we did have sex and that I was into it at the time. I had sex with my ex-husband’s twin brother. I’m a horrible, terrible, awful person. Yes,we were drunk, but is that an excuse? And what does it even mean? Nothing. It means nothing. We were drunk. I have a skull-splitting headache and parched throat to prove it.
“We didn’t use protection. Did we?” What the fuck did we use for lube? I stare around the room again, until I locate a bottle of baby oil.
Jimmy stands and searches the room. Under our scattered clothing, under the coffee table, and TV stand, he even gets on his hands and knees to peer under the sofa and chairs. He stops, rests his hands on his powerful thighs, and sighs.
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“Fuck.”
“We’ve already done that.”
I flip him off. I am not in the mood for jokes. If anything, I want to cry. I slept with my ex-husband’s twin brother. I’m an awful person.
“Sorry. That was a shitty thing to say,” Jimmy says.
I nod to accept his apology, draw my knees up to my chest, and cover my bottom half with my shirt.
“Look. It happened. We can’t take it back.”
“Jimmy…”
“What we can do is forget about it and move on.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we should.” Only there’s the not-so-little issue of us having unprotected sex. “I haven’t slept with anyone else since—” I bite my tongue.
“Since Billy.” The bitterness in his voice makes me pull back.
I nod. “And I got tested after we got divorced. Notthat I thought there was any need to, but…” I sigh and hug my legs.
“Some guys like to see results, others don’t care,” Jimmy says in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Right.” Not that I’d know. Until last night, I’d only dated one guy and only kissed one guy. Only slept with one guy. Now Jimmy knows that, too.
He finds his underwear and pulls it on. It’s skimpy, tight, and white, and emphasises the size and shape of his cock. Not that I should be looking.
He sits on the sofa. “I’ve slept with lots of people.”
I hold my breath.
