Page 76 of The Pact

I try to take a deep breath. Last thing I remember, I was having a ball at Kelley’s birthday party. We were playing beer pong and damn, I really suck at it.

I have a vague recollection of dancing on the table with all the guys. Is it possible or did I dream about it? I mean, I’m definitely not a dancing on the table kinda girl but when I’m around the guys everything is possible.

I slowly and cautiously open my eyes, squinting at the sunlight and looking around. I’m in a huge bedroom with dark wood furniture. I’m alone in a massive bed but the spot next to me is still warm.

I have flashes of Ashton and Kelley taking me up here and tucking me in.

Taking my bikini off. I might’ve or might’ve not have come onto them, begging them to fuck me.

I’m pretty sure they didn’t lay a finger on me. One of them actually put me in a long, soft t-shirt. By the huge size it must be Ashton’s. It says “Shell Cove Sails” on the front and it smells fresh and citrusy like Ash.

I think Kelley and Ashton slept here with me last night and I’d be lying if I said that I’m not a little disappointed that they’re gone.

I decide to go see if any of the guys are around but first I stumble into the ensuite bathroom and brush my teeth after finding a brand new toothbrush by the sink.

Just on the off chance that any of them wanted to kiss me, I couldn’t even let them near me before I banished the taste of stale beer off my mouth.

“Hey, sleeping cutie. Good morning.”

I find Ashton waiting for me in his bedroom. He looks fresh out of the shower, so I assume he went to shower in a different room to avoid waking me up. It’s not like this mansion is lacking extra bedrooms, but I’m grateful that he was so considerate to let me sleep in.

“Have you been up for a long time?” I ask, taking in his damp, dark hair, the chiseled perfection of his chest and just the beginning of that delicious V of muscle that disappears into the low waistline of his orange swimming trunks.

“I just went for a five mile run on the beach. We’re conditioning a little more intensely. We have a race near LA in a couple of weeks.”

“Hmm,” I comment. “Ash, about last night ...”

His gray eyes shimmer with mischief and a slow smile forms on his soft lips. “What about last night?” He chuckles.

“I’m sorry if I did or said anything embarrassing. I’m really not used to drinking that much and I—”

I stop in my tracks as his smile widens as he closes the distance between us with two long strides.

“Yeah, that was pretty clear. It’s all Shep’s fault for making you play beer pong. We’ll have to teach you how to play, so you get drunk only if you really want to.”

I’m not mad at him because he sounds concerned rather than patronizing but I can’t let him blame Shep. “It isn’t Shep’s fault. He didn’t force me to play and I really should’ve told him that I’m not that used to drinking.”

Ashton sighs, coming closer to me. He surrounds me with his strong arms, cradling my back against his chest and meeting my gaze in the full-length mirror by the wall opposite his bed. “How are you feeling?”

I decide to be honest. “Like I have a death metal band doing a live concert in my head.”

He chuckles. “I can imagine. But we’ll take care of it. Come on. I asked the housekeeper to go get us some breakfast. Something greasy and delicious to soak up all that beer. In the meantime, we can try my personal hangover remedy.”

I accept the hand he offers me and follow him down the stairs.

If I was expecting empty solo cups, trash and spilled drinks everywhere, I’m surprised to see that the huge living room where everyone was dancing when I arrived with Kelley last night is impeccably clean. “Did you—?”

He shakes his head. “We have house staff. They cleaned up and your bikini has been laundered. It should be ready for you to wear in a second.”

I thank him and follow him into a huge kitchen. If my parents hadn’t been living in a similar sized house with staff taking care of the housework and most of the cooking, I’d be really impressed. But Ashton doesn’t talk about it pretentiously, like Dad always did.

“Here you go, cutie. Take these.” He offers me two painkillers and a can of Diet Coke. “These are for the pain, the caffeine in the soda should open your blood vessels, making the painkiller act faster. And the final step of the Ashton Reynolds patented hangover cure is to carb up.”

He offers me a box of giant salted pretzels. “If you munch on these ones, you’ll feel better by the time breakfast gets here.”

I bite into one of the pretzels and I have to admit that my stomach feels immediately better once it receives something substantial.

“Where’s Kelley?” I ask as we walk to the opposite wing of the house to retrieve my bikini.

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