Page 11 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

“You were just, what?” he challenges while the girl continues sucking on his neck, either too drunk to realize I’m standing here and her boy toy is talking to someone else or too turned on to care.

My guess is the latter.

With a guy like that? His hands on her waist. His arrogant smirk. I can see the appeal.

When I realize he’s still waiting for me to answer him, I snap back to reality.

What did he ask me again?

Oh. Right.

“I was just needing the bathroom,” I finish, forcing myself to look him in the eye and instantly regretting it.

Dark eyes. Strong, stubbled jaw. And the same arrogant smirk setting off tiny warning bells in my head.

He chuckles, and the sound makes my stomach clench. He grabs the girl’s waist and tugs her a few inches to the right, leaving me a little room to slip by them and into the bathroom.

“M’lady,” he says, his tone laced with sarcasm.

I look down at his hand still hidden beneath the girl’s crop top. My lips pucker like I’ve tasted something sour. “Such a gentleman.”

But as I try to slip past him, he grabs my bicep with his free hand and keeps me in place, his hot gaze holding mine and wreaking havoc on my insides. He leans closer and whispers, “You have no idea.”

Then he lets me go, and I disappear into the bathroom like a scared little mouse. My face feels flushed, and my blood is hot as I press my hands to my cheeks, leaning against the door with weak knees.

What the hell was that?

4

ASHLYN

After using the restroom, I splash some cold water on my face, torn by my own curiosity as to whether or not he’s still out there. Still waiting. Still feeling up a girl in the middle of the hallway. The sexy stranger from the stoplight. The one who airdropped his number to me.

Apparently, he isn’t too bummed I never reached out.

It doesn’t matter.

This is why I don’t come to the Taylor House. Why I don’t like the infamous Taylor parties. The late nights. The random orgies apparently not happening behind closed doors.

And your boyfriend lives here, a tiny voice reminds me.

I shove my hair away from my face and wrench the door open, ready to take on whatever’s on the opposite side. Except the hallway is empty.

Shaking off the realization, I head back to the kitchen, desperate for a drink while praying it’ll erase whatever happened in the hallway from my memory because I do not need to relive it ever again.

I should leave.

But I promised Logan I’d come tonight.

And I always keep my promises.

“Hey, baby. You all right?” a familiar voice asks when he sees me staring at the smorgasbord of alcohol set in front of me.

I look up at Logan and smile. “Hey.”

His hair is a disheveled mess of blonde, sparking an image of the stranger in the hall and how his hookup ran her hands through it. When he catches me noticing, Logan runs his fingers through it and pats it down before grabbing my hips and pulling me into him. “Missed you, baby.”

“You, too.” I peck his lips. “Where were you?”

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