Page 87 of Bad Run

Past

Buzz, buzz.

Muffled vibrations threaten to pull me from the warm cocoon currently wrapped around my body. The buzzing returns and refuses to stop this time, forcing me to open my eyes.

A dim blue light coats the unfamiliar room, and a brief ripple of confusion washes over me before a tidal wave of memories crashes over me.

The World Series party, the rooftop, talking to Lance, leaving the club together, eating donuts, kissing Lance, and then our cab ride to his hotel.

My heart skips a beat.

O-M-freaking-G. I spent the night getting it on with Lance Taylor, and it was beyond amazing.

If his thick arm wasn’t draped over my waist as he plays the big spoon to my little, I’d think this was a dream.

Citrus and spice fill my nose, and I take a calming breath, basking in the moment.

The delicious soreness in my muscles brings a smile to my face. Lance really knows what he’s doing in the bedroom. When he said he wanted to fuck me until I passed out, he meant every word. I can’t even count the number of times he made me come. My nipples pucker at the memory of his wicked mouth covering every inch of my skin in worship.

Last night was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

Before Lance, I would have said sex was good. Satisfying in the way a plate of salty fries fills you up and leaves you content.

After him … Satisfying doesn’t come close to any vocabulary word I would use to describe sex with Lance. He’s a plate of loaded fries, dripping in cheese and covered in bacon. Decadent and dangerous to your health.

Being with Lance was life-altering. A mind-blowing and otherworldly adventure. There’s no way any other man could do what he did to me.

Let’s not forget he plays for your father’s baseball team.

Shut up, brain. Let me live in my delusion a little longer.

I’m not naïve. Lance could wake up and push me out the door with a rushed goodbye. One night does not make a relationship.

The buzzing starts again, and my eyes scan the room.

Condom wrappers, wet towels, and clothes litter the floor. The desk lamp rests on its side from one of our romps where he bent me over the mahogany-grained wood and fucked me from behind.

I spot my purse on the floor by the door, next to Lance’s suit jacket. As gently as I can, so as not to disturb Lance as he sleeps soundly, I lift his arm and slide out from under him and the sheets.

The dull ache between my legs throbs in both desire and overuse.

Naked as the day I was born, I tiptoe around the room and scoop up my panties and bra off the floor. I slip them on and grab my purse, pulling my cellphone free and checking the notifications.

Eleven missed calls from my best friend.

I jump as the phone in my hand vibrates again with an incoming call. Rushing into the bathroom, I quietly close the door behind me before turning on the light and answering my phone.

“Jenna?” I whisper.

“Ohmigod, finally,” Jenna cries, putting me on high alert. “I am so sorry to bother you.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She sniffs. “I’m fine. Well, I will be in six weeks.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I broke my dang wrist, and I need you to come get me from the hospital. The nurse is being a pain and won’t let me leave alone. I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t need you, but Ty drove down to Atlantic City with his new flavor of the month.”