Page 31 of Her Greatest Adventure

“A dirty one.”

His laugh is strained as he releases my finger. “You could never be a dirty secret.”

“Okay. Make me a clean one, then.”

My nipples rasp against my bra as my chest heaves. The part of my brain that has any sense is shouting for me to back up and pull myself together, but all the beer in my bloodstream dulls that voice until it disappears completely.Shit, he feels good beneath me. Strong and secure. Forbidden.

This is the last position we should be in. These are the last thoughts I should be thinking. But when you’re three sheets to the wind, everything sounds like the best idea.

That’s the only explanation as to why I take advantage of his loose bite on my finger and push it further inside of his mouth, curious as to what he’ll do now. A shot of electricity moves between my legs when he takes me by surprise, pulling my finger in deeper and sucking.

My throat grows tight as I swallow a moan and whisper, “Well? Do you need me to beg?”

He shakes his head a single time as I pull my finger from his mouth. His eyes refuse to release mine as he rasps two words that turn me to mush.

“No. Not yet.”

* * *

I’m wokenby the churning of my stomach. Everything I ate and drank last night spins like it’s inside of a washing machine as I fling myself out of bed and run to the bathroom. I drop to my knees and barely have time to pull my hair from my face before retching into the toilet bowl.

A whimper escapes me as the bathroom tiles cool the hot skin of my legs and knees. My shirt sticks to my sweat-slicked back, and if my arms weren’t so fucking heavy, I would rip it right off.

Soft footsteps on the carpet outside make me stiffen. I hide my face in my elbow and close my eyes as the room continues to spin. I’ve never liked people seeing me when I’m not feeling well, and I don’t see Cooper being an exception to that.

“Are you okay?” Cooper asks softly. By the rough sound of his voice and the fact I was awake before him, it’s probably extremely early in the morning.

“No,” I say into my elbow.

“Do you get sick after drinking often?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Anxiety grips me as I blurt out a surprising “No.”

“Okay.”

Shuffling noises have me looking up from my arm to find him sitting down beside me with his back against the tub and his knees bent, arms slung over them. I take in the bags beneath his eyes and his curly hair standing up every which way and let out a breathy laugh.

“How do you feel?” I croak, closing the toilet lid and flushing.

“Like you look, but without the throw up.”

“Lucky you.”

He hums, eyes darting around the room as he wipes a hand down his face. There’s a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach when I watch him do it. Like he knows something I don’t but is too afraid to say it.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

Something like disappointment darts across his face before it’s gone, replaced with an impossible-to-read expression. “Do you remember what we did last night?”

“Not really.”

I remember beer and wings and how hot my lips burned after finishing my second plate. There was even a crowd beside our table, cheering us on as I finished my fifth beer just seconds before Cooper did.

“It’s all kind of black after the bartender cleared our table and announced me the victor. Even that’s a bit fuzzy.”

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