Page 56 of Wright Kind of Trouble

“That seems a little safer,” he said.

I came to my feet again, turned toward the bedroom, promptly tripped on the couch, and fell face-first into it. My ass was hanging high in the air. I was wearing basically nothing but a scrap of red-and-blue fabric.

“Oops,” I said.

Chase slipped his hands around my waist, pulled me back to my feet, and then lifted me over his shoulder. “You’re a mess, Wright.”

“My head is spinning.”

“We’ll get you taken care of.”

“Is it bad that I might not want to be a lawyer?”

“It’s fine. Law degrees are overrated.”

“You have a law degree,” I pointed out.

“That I’m not currently using. So, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need one unless you want to practice law. You can accomplish all your dreams without it. I promise it’s not something you go into lightly. It’s the worst three years of your life. So, you need to know.”

“Oh.”

“But you don’t need to know now. You have time.”

As soon as Chase opened the door to his bedroom, Bowie raced around our feet. Chase smiled and tried to brush his dog off, but Bowie was unperturbed. I giggled, reaching for him over Chase’s shoulder.

He grunted as I nearly toppled backward out of his arms, and he tossed me onto his enormous bed. Bowie bounded onto it, licking my face.

“Good boy!”

Chase shook his head. “Off the bed, Bow. Come on. Let’s go out.”

Chase was gone for a minute, and I collapsed backward. Why was I having a serious conversation about law school when I was drunk and just wanted dick? I really needed to let that go and focus on what mattered right now.

Like lying in Chase Sinclair’s bed.

When Chase returned, he’d ditched the jacket and fedora.

“No Indy for me?” I asked on a pout.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re into Indiana Jones?”

“What woman isn’t?”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He strode to the bed and looked down at me with conflict in his eyes. “Now, what are we going to do with you?”

“You could just do me,” I said, turning his words around. I sat up, reaching for his belt and tugging him closer.

“You make this very difficult,” he said as if he were truly suffering.

I smirked. “Good.”

“Now, who is toying with whom?”

“It’s my birthday,” I said, sliding the belt out of the loop.

“I realize it is your birthday.”

“And I’m here.”

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