Page 90 of Clinch'd

“Please tell me you didn’t suggest we fake a relationship because of my sister?” I demand.

He has the good grace to look sheepish, but I just roll my eyes and look away. Fuck me. This is all so completely fucked.

“Did it work?” I huff.

“Yep.”

“Excellent,” I say in my most droll tone.

“C’mon, you need a drink,” Beast rumbles and I don’t disagree.

And so, three hours later when I stagger to the bathroom, I’m simultaneously regretting my life choices and dizzy as all hell.

After waiting in an extremely annoying line while the chicks in front of me gossip about Cooper, to my complete annoyance, I finally get the chance to pee.

I also contemplate vomiting as I sit on the toilet, the words of one of the chicks rolling through my head.

He’s soooo hot. I bet he’s a beast in bed.

My sister’s best friend’s cousin fucked him. Said he gave her three orgasms but left her cold after.

Worth it.

Worth it. Ha! I don’t recall the dick giving me three orgasms in one go. What a cheapskate.

After washing my hands and fixing my makeup, I stumble out of the bathroom but take the wrong turn, only to realize it halfway down. I turn on my heel but when I do, the world is spinning. Uh oh.

Grabbing the wall, I suck in air through my nose and hope I don’t puke, but it’s roiling painfully. Fuck.

“Ah Minnie, what are you doing back here? Looking for a quick fuck? Figures it would have to be in the dark,” Cooper says rudely.

Glancing up, I blink at him, blink again but I’m not sure which Cooper I’m speaking to when I slur, “Fuck off. Beasht fucks me just fline.”

He chuckles, drawing my chin up, which brings him into sharp relief.

“You are fucked up.”

“Mm,” I mumble. “So are you.”

“I haven’t had anything to drink,” he tsks.

“Doesshnt matter,” I say slashing my hand through the air before stumbling.

“Whoa, how much have you had to drink?” Cooper asks, grabbing my waist.

Running my hands down his chest, I shake my head, before remembering my thought and muttering, “You’re fucked up because you have no soul.”

“Is that right?” he says.

Is he amused? Fucker.

Glancing into his eyes, the caramel hue so beautiful against his black hair, I nod, and then moan, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“No doubt about that,” he murmurs.

“Hey,” I say, smacking his chest.

“Hm?” he asks, turning me back the other way.