Pointedly ignoring the coffee– while internally salivating over the prospect of caffeine– I step around my desk and slide my messenger bag off my shoulder, dropping into my chair with a pained groan.
If I’d managed to get a few more hours of sleep this morning, I have no doubt my shifter healing would’ve fixed me up by now. Instead, I stupidly peeled myself out of bed after snoozing my alarm for the third time and dragged my ass down here to report for work.
“Good morning,” Matty greets cheerfully, grinning behind his computer at the desk opposite mine.
My eyes bounce up to meet his, and that’s when it all comes flooding back. I’ve been stuck in a haze of sluggish thoughts since crawling out of bed, but as soon as I peer into those baby blues, my memories of last night surge in with startling clarity.
I kissed him.
Goddamnit, Ikissed him.
What the fuck was I thinking?!
Matty’s still beaming that sexy-as-fuck grin my way, and all I can do is blink back at him in shock and dismay as that kiss replays over and over in my mind on a torturous loop.
His lips, his tongue. The nip of his teeth. He tasted like beer and bad decisions, and for some reason I couldn’t get enough of his particular brand of poison. His hands were in my hair, his body pressed tightly against mine…
My cheeks heat as I drop my gaze to my computer monitor, grabbing for my mouse and clicking it a few times to wake up the screen. The bright light sears my retinas as it comes on, prompting me to enter my login credentials.
Why thefuckdid I kiss him?
He said he wondered what it’d be like, and I just fucking went for it like some deranged schoolgirl with a crush, all because he said I was pretty and smart and helikedme.
I’m going straight to hell. My fated mate was murdered by a hunter right before my eyes, and how did I honor his memory?By throwing myself at one.
Before, it was easy to just go on pretending that I hate him, but the reality of what I’ve done is forcing me to confront my very complicated feelings for Matty Blue Eyes. I’m suddenly drowning in an ocean of regret and self-loathing, wishing I’d just skipped Lo’s stupid birthday celebration and spent the night wallowing in my dorm room. Instead, I’m paying for my bad decisions in spades.
Despite the urge to crawl under my desk and hide for the remainder of this horrible day, I proceed with logging in and opening up my task list, determined to bury myself in work. Easier said than done when I can still feel Matty watching me. He’sright there, with those impossibly soft lips that I so recentlykissed. Those lips that felt so good against mine it should be a damn crime.
I lift a hand to rub at my temple as the light on my computer screen starts to pulse.
No, the screen isn’t pulsing, that’s my damnhead. It’s fuckingpounding.
I flicker a longing glance toward the coffee resting near the edge of my desk, tracing my tongue over the curve of my lower lip. Caffeine would almost certainly ease this hangover-induced headache. I’ve continually refused Matty’s gestures on principle, but I’m far too tempted to pick up that steaming cup of salvation right now.
Maybe just a little sip…
“How are you feeling?” he asks, the low, velvety rumble of his voice yanking me out of my mental spiral.
I jerk my head up to stare back at him, deadpan.
Doesn’t take a genius to see how much I’m struggling.
“Y’know, my uncle used to swear by this weird hangover cure,” he muses, swiping a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “He’d crack a raw egg into a glass of tomato juice…”
“Ugh,” I grunt, face screwing up in a grimace. “Are you trying to make me throw up right now?”
“It might make you feel better?” he suggests, shrugging.
I shake my head with a scowl. “No way I’m drinking that.”
“I meant throwing up. When I’m really sick, sometimes puking actually makes me feel better, like getting the poison out.”
“Shifters don’t get sick.”
He cocks a brow. “You sure?”
A teasing smirk pulls at his lips while I glare back at him, grinding my molars.
