Page 234 of Entangled

“What the hell did you get up to tonight?” I ask.

I haven’t even seen her tipsy before. She usually stops at a drink or two.

“The sex part or the drinking part?” she mumbles, and I tense.

My gaze rakes over her filthy dress. That explains that then.

The need to know everything she’s done tonight—everynight—grips me, and I have to remind myself that she’s been drinking. It wouldn’t be right to drag every detail out of her now.

I’ll wait until she’s sober.

Picking a stubborn leaf out of her hair, I say, “The drinking part.”

She hums, and I feel the vibration over every inch of my skin. “Heather and Lucky and the other women played Never Have I Ever with me. Have you played it?” Her proud smile curves against my chest. “I’ve done more things than I thought.” She frowns. “That also means I had to drink a lot, you understand.”

She yawns again, and I run a hand over my face. This is going to kill me.

Trying not to think about all thethingsshe might have done—all the thingsIcould do with her—I tap her back to urge her to get up. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Eden’s startled eyes swing up to mine, and I smirk.

“Back toyourbed,” I clarify.

Her sigh is audible... and disappointed. Not the kind of sigh afriendmight make when she’s told she’s not getting any.

I help her to her feet, and she wobbles.

“Did you know that Lucky has had sex on the back of a horse? How do you evendothat?” she asks.

“I don’t know, pet,” I say, amused.

“He won the whole game, you know. He was very drunk,” she says disapprovingly, then almost trips over her own feet as she steps toward the house. I catch her silently as she continues without missing a beat. “It was very irresponsible of him.”

She slaps my chest. “Oh!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Can you tell me what this says?” she asks.

Then she turns around and pulls her dress up to her waist.

In the middle of the goddamned lawn.

My smile crashes and burns as I stare at her bare ass. It’s pale and round and a little dirt smudged. Fingerprint-sized bruises are already blooming on her hips.

Fuck.

A scalding shudder shoots down my spine. The urge to throw her over my shoulder and lock her to my bed is harder than it should be to shut down.

“What does it say?” she asks again. “They wouldn’t tell me.”

Say?

I drag my fuck-fogged thoughts out of the gutter and focus on the writing—and my snort escapes like a gunshot.

“What makes you think I’ll tell you?” I ask.

Beau wrote the left side, I’d bet rations on it. Which meant Lucky wrote the right. Jayk can’t take a joke, and it’s obviously not Jasper’s style.

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