I’m about to ask him to grab a condom when he moves lower, trailing kisses down my torso, and the thought dissolves entirely.
He hooks his thumbs into my matching panties, pulling them down as he softly kisses across my stomach, hip to hip.
But suddenly—everything flips.
The butterflies fluttering in my stomach twist, morphing into something sour and queasy. The sudden wave of nausea sobers me instantly, clearing the fog. I jolt upright, shoving at him, the room tilting completely sideways.
I’m practically naked in Emmett’s bed.
Emmett.
Wesley’sbrother.
Oh God.
I scramble to the edge of the bed, hand over my mouth.
Wesley.
What the fuck have I done?
“I’m gonna be sick,” I choke.
Emmett lunges, shoving something in front of me just in time as I retch.
When it’s finally over, I collapse forward, trembling. Hot and humiliating tears stream down my face, mortification burning hotter than the alcohol.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, voice broken. “I’m so,sosorry.”
He rubs my back, shushing me softly and comforting me through every sob.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I promise it’s okay.”
He pulls me against his chest, arms tight around me, hand cradling the back of my head. He doesn’t say anything else. He just holds me while the sobs wrack through my body, until finally my breathing slowly, painfully evens out.
When it’s finally over, he gives me a gentle squeeze and kisses the top of my head.
“I’ll be right back. Just…stay here.”
He slips into the bathroom and quickly returns with a glass of water and a cold, damp washcloth.
“Open your mouth,” he says, standing in front of me.
I glare up at him and he laughs, opening his palm to show two Tylenol. “Relax.”
I open my mouth, letting him place them on my tongue before handing me the water. When I set the empty glass on the nightstand, my eyes snag on a framed photo—Emmett, Wesley, Landon, and Lydia as kids. A woven bracelet hangs over the edge of the frame.
Only then do I look down, realizing I’m still in my bra and underwear. I quickly yank the sheets up to cover myself, searching for my discarded clothes on the floor. That’s when it fully registers what Emmett held in front of me before I got sick.
“I—I threw up in your boot.”
“Uh…yeah. You did.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck before pulling a shirt out of a drawer and holding it out to me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, mortification flooding over me as I grab the shirt and slip it over my head.
He waves me off, sitting on the edge of his bed. “It’s not a big deal. It’s kinda my fault.” He pauses. “I pushed you too far tonight.”
I shake my head, smiling softly as I scoot closer to him, resting my hand on his knee.
