Page 72 of Done with You

“But the sexual tension and the fact that you’ve probably had his dick in your mouth is making it difficult and all kinds of awkward, right?” Mieka asked.

Oona growled. Triss leaned over and shoved Mieka in the shoulder.

“I’m just making an observation. And what I observed when you two were talking on the bus was a whole lot of pent up … heat, but no where to vent it.”

“Shots!” Rayma cheered as a server brought over a tray of shots, this time with a clear liquid inside.

Oona exhaled in relief from the distraction and change of subject. She reached over and grabbed one off the tray, then slammed it back before even asking what it was.

“Thank God they’re not those porn star things again,” Krista murmured, taking a shot off the tray as she snuggled into Brock’s big embrace.

He, on the other hand, eyed the liquid in the shot glass suspiciously, took his wife’s from her and gave it a sniff. Then he shook his head. “Smells like pie.”

“What is this?” Krista asked, turning to Rayma who just grabbed her shot glass off the tray.

“It’s an apple cake.”

“Which is?” Stacey probed, eyeing the tray as it came to her like it was a dog that might bite her, or in the steaming pie that might burn her tongue.

“Apple liqueur and vanilla vodka,” Rayma said plainly before downing hers like it was no big deal.

Several others followed and they all made faces. Some expressions conveyed delight and relief, while others cringed at how sweet it was.

It hadn’t been terrible, a little sweet, but it was better than the porn star. Oona shrugged, grabbed another one off the tray, clinked her shooter against Mieka’s, then the two of them linked arms like married people do and downed their apple cakes.

Then she sipped the dry champagne to cleanse her palate, all the while the heat of Aiden’s gaze on her was enough to make sweat form between her breasts.

The man had some intense stares, that was for sure. And in her slightly boozy state, she was having a hard time discerning his lusty looks from his judgmental ones.

She knew all about resting bitch face.

Did Aiden have resting aroused and disgruntled face?

She snickered inwardly at the word disgruntled. It was a funny word.

The two parties continued to drink and socialize. More champagne bottles came out, along with trays and trays of shots that Rayma kept ordering.

It was nearly one-thirty by the time they all decided to pack it in and head home.

Both Jordan and Rayma were sufficiently plastered, hanging off each other and stumbling their way up the stairs from the lounge to the waiting bus.

Oona was also drunker than she’d been in a long time—possibly ever.

It was just easier to distract herself with drinking, than allow the frustration and confusion she felt about Aiden fester like an untreated wound. That of course, didn’t stop Mieka from making more than one comment about how sisters marrying brothers was the best and that she highly recommended it.

But she didn’t know the whole story.

She just knew that Oona and Aiden had slept together and that the possibility of that happening again was less than zero.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” came a dark and husky voice right next to her ear as she made her way up the brick stairs from the lounge to the sidewalk. The air was freeze-your-nipples cold, and she shivered as she wrapped her leather jacket tighter around herself.

Obviously, it was Aiden.

Everyone else there—besides Triss who had an obvious reason to stay sober—was drinking.

She ignored him.

His growl made her nipples pebble harder than they already were from that frigid wind whipping off the water like it had something to prove. Like it was reminding the east coasters that just because the thermostat might not read low double-digits, didn’t mean the weather couldn’t freeze the balls off a prize bull.

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