Page 18 of My Song for You
For some reason, the thought chilled me from the inside. It was ridiculous, really. Logan was a great kid. He deserved to have a father, someone loving and understanding like my old man, but as long as Callie was afraid of Logan being hurt, she would never take that risk. Her son would always come first for her, to the point of her sacrificing everything else.
Not your problem,I reminded myself, and focused on Maria instead.
We danced for two more songs. Her hands were all over me, making it clear what she wanted. Only I wasn’t too sure whatIwanted. Other than another beer.
And then another.
Followed by yet another.
At one point Marisa—or Maria, or whatever her name was—went to the bathroom. No sooner had she left than two girls took her place. I pulled one onto my lap; the other sat next to me. Both explored me with their hands and their lips. Neither seemed bothered by the other girl’s actions.
Marisa or Mary never returned. The waitress brought me another beer. It wasn’t enough to block out my memories of Callie. If anything, the beer made them clearer.
Chapter 8
Jared
Many things in this world are considered to be the epitome of cruelty. But when the blinding sunlight glares at you through the window because you were too drunk last night to close the fucking curtains, that easily ranks up there on the top of the list.
I groaned and snapped my eyes shut. I vaguely remembered Kirk calling it a night. I vaguely remembered him shoving me into a cab with him. I vaguely remembered stumbling up the stairs to my apartment, because I had insisted on walking up them instead of riding the elevator. And I vaguely remembered someone helping me climb said steps.
But as far as the night went, that was all I could remember, other than a few flashes here and there of dancing, talking to girls, kissing.
I also remembered a couple of other things, but I suspected they had more to do with how much I had drunk last night than reality. Things that my subconscious craved to do to Callie. Erotic things she might not have appreciated if she knew I was thinking about her that way.
Smooth fingertips trailed along my exposed abs and dipped under the sheets covering my hips. Maybe I hadn’t dreamt about fucking Callie last night after all. Maybe she really was here.
I cracked open my eyelids and peered at the blurry vision next to me. Even without blinking my eyesight clear, I could tell the girl in my dreams wasn’t the one lying next to me.
“Morning,” she said, her voice pack-a-day rough.
I blinked her into focus. “Um, hi?”
“How are you feeling?” She smiled sweetly. Shit, why didn’t I remember having sex with her? Even in my dreams, I had imagined Callie’s soft scent. This girl’s perfume was much heavier. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Callie’s scent.
“Thirsty,” I replied.
“I’ll get you some water.”
Before I could say anything, she bounced out of bed in nothing but a black satin thong and bra. I lifted the sheet to discover she wasn’t the only one in her underwear. I still had my boxer briefs on. I let out a relieved breath. If I was drunk enough not to remember fucking her, I would’ve been too drunk to pull my underwear back on afterward.
She returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. “This should help.” She passed me the glass and handed me two pills.
“Thanks.” I tossed back the painkiller and downed the entire glass of water. Luckily my stomach didn’t protest. By the time I was finished, she was under the sheet, her bra no longer on her.
She didn’t waste time sneaking her hand under the covers. It brushed against my dick. I jerked away, putting several feet between us.
Her lips curved into a seductive smile and she scooted closer. “I thought now that you’re sober, we can finish what we started.”
“What exactly is that?” “Sober” was the last word I would’ve used to describe my current state.
She moved her hand to my nipple and pinched it. “What do you think?” she purred.
Her previous words echoed in my head:We can finish what we started.
“So we never actually fucked last night?”
“No, you were too…um…out of it.” Translation: I couldn’t get it up.
