Page 108 of Reckless at Westbrook High

I should, but I don’t.

Instead I slide my arms around his waist and drop my face to the crook of his neck, passing out again with my dick in his ass and a few thoughts that have no business filling my head.

I’m so fucking fucked.

Chapter Thirty-One

Wren

Kai: Come work out with us. You’re gettin’ skinny.

Wren: Fuck off.

I drop my phone down on my lap and run my hands through my hair, looking up when Callie walks through the den a couple minutes later like a brat on a mission.

Of fucking course they’d send her to babysit me.

Assholes.

She gets one look at me and sighs, walking out to snatch the drink from my hand. She sniffs it like she’s expecting it to be water and scrunches her nose when she finds it’s not, tossing the vodka over the balcony before placing the empty glass down on the coffee table. I raise a brow and lean forward to pour myself another one, growling when she tosses that, too.

“The fuck, Callie?”

“No more drinking.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

I drop back in my seat and she drops down beside me, looking off to the pier in the distance while she hands me a hot coffee and a couple aspirin. I take both and she lifts her bare legs across my thighs, stealing my joint from the ash tray to burn the tip.

“Where’s Levi?”

“Don’t care.”

“You’re a shitty liar, ganja man.”

I roll my eyes at that, wrapping my arm around her waist to pull her up onto my lap. “He’s in the shower.”

She nods, tipping her head back on my shoulder to look at me. “He let you top him, didn’t he?”

My eyes cut to hers and I frown, shaking my head at her when she grins like a pig in shit.

“You heard us.”

“Kinda hard not to,” she throws back, wiggling her brows. “Was it hot? It sounded hot.”

I laugh lightly and steal the joint from her hand, looking up when my dad walks out through the balcony doors with a scary ass glare on his face that makes him look an awful lot like Damon, only meaner.

Fucking lovely.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re skipping school and getting drunk and high at eleven o clock in the goddamn morning,” he bites out, working his jaw when I say nothing. “What the hell happened to your face?”

I don’t answer that.

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