Page 16 of About That Night

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. I was in your room because I wanted you to do exactly that.” She pauses, then asks, “Did you know it was me? I’ve always wondered that. It was pitch black in your room, and you were drunk. Did you know, or did you figure it out in the morning when we woke up?”

“I knew it was you.” There had been no question it was her. I can’t believe she’s spent five years wondering about that. “I know I have a reputation for sleeping with just anyone, but I’ve never had sex without knowing who I was having sex with.”

Though I’m not saying I wouldn’t. Never say never. That could be hot, depending on the circumstances. Just that, in this particular case, I had not.

“How did you know?”

“There were only four of you there that night, one of whom was my sister. Out of the three remaining cheerleaders, you had the biggest chest and the sexiest voice. It only took me one rub and a moan to figure out it was you.”

Her jaw drops. “Hank!” She smacks my arm.

“What? You asked me, and I’m telling you. That’s how I knew.” I chuckle at the shock on her face. “How did you think I would know? By smell?”

Now she starts laughing. “Oh my God, no!”

I lean in and pretend to sniff her. “Let me make sure it’s really you.”

She shakes her head at me. “You’re crazy. Stop it.”

But I nuzzle in closer to her, wrapping my arms around her from the side. “You smell like chicken.”

That makes her laugh. “I do not.” She pulls away and gives me a smile. “Be my fake boyfriend, Hank. Please?”

If you ask my mother, she’ll tell you I’ve done inappropriate things. I’ve done irresponsible things. I’ve done dangerous things. I’ve done impulsive things and embarrassing things, and even things that resulted in a night in jail.

But nothing quite as utterly fucking stupid as opening my mouth and saying, ”Okay,” to being Chastity DuBois’ pretend boyfriend.

It may also be the most altruistic thing I’ve ever done, because agreeing to spend time with her and not have sex with her makes me nothing short of a saint.

I have a soft spot for her, though. She looks at me with those brown eyes, and I want to make everything easier for Chastity. I want to take a machete and clear a path through the swamp for her. Win a million dollars and gift it to her. Paint her house, buy her groceries, name a boat in her honor. Be a role model to her son and anonymously pay for his college. And since I can’t do any of that, I guess I’m going to teach her how to date so she can spend the rest of her life having sex with some other guy that isn’t me.

I raise my hand to get Conway’s attention. Fuck the beer. I need a whiskey.

She beams at me and throws her arms around me. “Thank you, you’re the best.”

I hug her back, the press of her tits against my chest the purest form of torture.

From behind the bar, Conway shakes his head at me.

I pull Chastity in tighter to both make him jealous and to torture myself further.

“Lesson one,” I murmur in her ear. “Are you ready for it?”

Chastity shivers in my arms. “Ready.”

I have a feeling neither one of us is ready for this.

But that’s never stopped me before.

Chapter Four

Chastity

Hugging Hank is a bad idea. I’m in his arms, and he’s talking directly into my ear, his breath tickling along my neck.

He makes me laugh and he turns me on. It’s a dangerous combination.

I pull away, flustered. “So what is it? Lesson one?”

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