Page 56 of The Alice Equation (The Laws of Love 1)

Chapter Eleven

So.So. Awful.

With each word, Alice banged her head on the bathroom cabinet. Which only made it hurt more. Was it possible for your head to split open and your brains to spill out from a hangover? Or was this what happened when you were hit by a tsunami of shame and self-loathing?

When she’d awoken this morning there had been one brief second of the most amazingly syrupy feeling blanketing her body and then… she wasn’t sure which came first— the sense that her skull was an egg being cracked repeatedly with a spoon, or the raft of memories that assaulted her brain.

A kaleidoscope of hot lips and feverish fingers, of smell, taste, touch. The feel of him thick and hard, straining against her hand as she fumbled with the fly of his pants, and the knowledge that all she’d wanted was to lie back and let Aaron do all kind of unimaginably wicked things to her.

Then do unimaginably wicked things back.

She gagged and, avoiding her reflection, flung open the bathroom cabinet and fumbled around for some painkillers. She shook two into her hand from the bottle then shoved them into her mouth, cupped water into her hand and gulped them down before sinking onto the edge of the bath.

She needed to talk to Polly.

But Polly was probably still holed up in bed with Jake and wouldn’t surface until late morning. Especially with Rowena away. And meanwhile Alice would probably have to put on some loud music so she didn’t have to hear their morning coitus routine. Which would do nothing for her splitting temples.

Polly wasn’t self-conscious about making a lot of noise when she orgasmed. She said being vocal intensified it.

Not that Alice would know.

Amend that. She recalled being pretty vocal last night with the things Aaron was doing to her nipples. Not that there had been an orgasm. Such events were rare and self-induced. Very quietly in the dark. But oh god, she’d been teetering on the brink… even… before…

A sudden image of Aaron’s tousled blond hair nestling between her legs, and despite her utter state of misery, her sex sprang alarmingly to life. She was beginning to feel like a fairground ride down there, one of the slam-dunking big dipper kinds that left you wobbly kneed and terrified but still wanting to go back a second time… and a third.

She groaned and covered her face. How would she ever be able to look him in the eye again?

A tap on the door startled her.

“Alice. I need a pee.”

Polly? Up already? Alice scrambled up and her stomach rose in tandem, but she gulped hard and unbolted the bathroom door, then peered around it.

Polly’s face, flushed and framed by even bouncier curls than usual, met hers.

“Not feeling so great?” Polly grimaced sympathetically as she slipped into the bathroom.

“I want to die.” Alice slumped back on the side of the bath as Polly wriggled her kimono-style dressing gown up her thighs, sat on the loo and happily tinkled away, still watching her with bright, sympathy-laden eyes.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Alice moaned, hands over her face once more.

“Oh come on, Munchkin, you’ve seen me in this state often enough.”

“What, peeing?”

“No, silly. The post-sex state.”

“Youmight be. I’m not.”

“Very close though, am I right?”

Arghhh. Alice shook her head then grabbed her forehead. It felt like her brain was dislodging.

Polly clucked her tongue. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Done and dusted, Polly shimmied over to the basin and washed her hands. “Go and get ready,” she said briskly. “I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“God no! I’ll vomit. Besides, aren’t you and Jake—”

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