Page 9 of Third Wheel

Her mom finding out she was kinky.

Her parents taking care of everything—and God, she hoped her dad didn’t know she was kinky—while she hid away with her friends and didn’t have to face anyone. How she was ever going to face anyone ever again, she didn’t know.

At least she didn’t have to face work yet since she was supposed to be on her honeymoon this week.

Focus. How did I end up in bed with Zach?

Vodka.

Carolyn had brought in vodka. And she’d drank and drank… and Kincaid had helped her out of her dress, and she’d felt like a really fucking terrible person because, for just a moment, she’dpictured him helping her out of her dress for an entirely different reason while Zach watched them.

Oh God… had she done this? Had she thrown herself at them, and they’d given her a pity fuck because she was that pathetic?

Her gorge rose. She was going to throw up.

No… wait.

Reaching down, she breathed out a sigh of relief as she realized she wasn’t totally naked. She had on underwear. Her vagina was not sore in any way. It did not feel like she’d been fucked. And with two men, she would feel it, right?

Logic reasserted itself.

Neither Kincaid nor Zach would ever touch her while she was wasted drunk. Neither of them was that kind of guy.

She was just really freaking slow this morning.

But shewasin their bed, she assumed, in their room. Blinking, she looked around. It looked like a main bedroom and not a guest bedroom. Huge bed and she was in the center of it. There was an empty space beside her and a pillow with an indent, which was probably where Kincaid had slept. Big, dark, masculine-looking wooden furniture. Two dressers. Several doors, which probably led to closets or maybe a bathroom, or both, and one must lead out to the hallway.

Amy didn’t remember which one. She couldn’t remember anything after Kincaid helped get her out of her dress. Which was extremely disconcerting. She’d never gotten blackout drunk before.

I’ve also never had my groom elope with one of my friends on my wedding day before, either.

The door directly across from the bed started to open, and Amy squeaked, pulling the sheets up to cover her breasts. Which was dumb because Kincaid had definitely seen her boobs in the club and had probably seen them last night, even though she couldn’t remember it.

He appeared in the doorway, grey sweatpants hanging from his hips, a tray in his hands, looking like he’d stepped right out of a viral internet video. Amy did her best to focus her eyes on his face, not on his bare, muscular chest and abs, and definitely not on the sweatpants that were clinging to him. A slow smile moved over his lips.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Okay… um.” She reached up, pressing her fingertips to her lips because the smell of the food hitting her made her stomach churn in a painful manner. Her vagina might not be sore, but her stomach muscles were.

“Do you need to throw up again?” Kincaid asked, coming over to put the tray down on the nightstand beside his side of the bed. There was bacon, eggs, biscuits, orange juice, and coffee. Also, a pill bottle.

She didn’t know what she wanted first—the coffee or the headache medicine.

But there was something she needed to ask first.

“Again?” Please no…

His sympathetic gaze made her want to shrivel into a tiny ball.

“You don’t remember?” His tone was gentle and nonjudgmental, but she still felt the shame wash over her. Because she didn’t remember. Because he’d definitely seen her throw up. Which meant Zach had, too.

She wanted to sink through the bed, into the mattress, and just never come out again. If only that was possible.

“No. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” One side of his lips hitched up. “But that’s how you ended up in here, in case you were wondering. The guest bedroom should be ready for you again by tonight.”

“Oh, no.” Amy buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she couldn’t get any more mortified, but apparently, there was still room on the scale. If only she could make herself disappear. She’d not only gotten so drunk they’d had to take care of her, she’d thrown up all over their guest bed, so they’d been forced to let her sleep in theirs. “Oh my God, I am so sorry.”

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