Her forehead falls against my chest, and she lets out a small groan.“We should probably say goodnight,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my shirt.“You’ve had a lot to drink.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”My headisspinning—more from feeling her mouth on mine than anything else.Either way, I’m not thinking straight.
Gathering what’s left of my self-control, I take a step back.“’Night, Chloe.”
“’Night, Ethan.”She squeezes my hand once more before letting go.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
CHLOE
I’m dead.
Okay, maybe I’m not dead, but I kind of want to be.Curse Lola and her heavy pour.I figured those gins were doubles—heck, knowing her, they might have even been triples—yet I drank them anyway.I had to, otherwise, my hands would’ve been all over a certain neighbor of mine.
Not that it mattered, in the end.
I press my fingers to my lips, still feeling the pressure of his hungry mouth.I wasthis closeto ripping that man’s clothes off and letting his powerful body destroy mine.
How did he have the strength to pull away?
It’s a good thing he did, though.
Sex on the beach isn’t nearly as romantic as it sounds—we’re talking sandeverywhere.
Whose idea was it for those tequila shots?I can actually feel my heartbeat in my temples.
Hangover aside, I can’t freaking wait to see Ethan again this morning.He’s probably going to regret promising to come surfing with me, but when I show him how rejuvenating it is out on the water, he’ll change his tune.
Although, there won’t be a lesson if I can’t find a way to pry my head from this pillow.
My door squeaks open, and my dad tiptoes into my room.
What the heck?He didn’t even knock.For all he knows, I could’ve had a guy in here.This may have been his house at one point, but it’s mine now, and if he doesn’t start respecting my privacy, then?—
Quietly, he sets a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the nightstand.A waft of aftershave breezes over me, a welcome respite from the stale beer smell that he’s been wearing since he arrived.
When I prop myself up on my elbows, he lets out a startled yelp.
“Sorry.Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says with a sheepish smile.“Sounded like you had a good time last night, and I figured you’d need a little help this morning.”
My heart pinches.Of course he’d know how I feel.He probably feels like hot garbage every morning.“Thanks, Rick.”
“No problem, kiddo.If you’re hungry, I made scrambled eggs.They’re on a plate by the microwave.”
The thought of putting anything into my stomach right now makes me want to hug the toilet, but I thank him again, and he slips back out of my room.Before he shuts the door, he adds, “Oh, and I fixed the cabinets.”
The door closes with a quiet click.
Wow, Rick actually fixed something.Sounds too good to be true.
And he made me breakfast?Does this mean he’s finally going to get his life back on track?I really hope so.I hate seeing him struggle when I know the man he could be.
I swipe the bottle off the nightstand, the pills inside rattling like a maraca as I struggle with the dang lid.Who makes these things anyway?Sadists, probably.When I finally get the lid off, I take two pills, guzzle as much water as I can stand, and force myself out of the bed.
Those waves aren’t going to surf themselves, and I promised my neighbor a lesson.
The soundof Ethan lumbering toward the door makes me think of a video I once saw of a bear coming out of its cave after hibernation.When his door swings open, he’s wearing the same irritated expression as the bear—minus the leaves and twigs in his beautifully rumpled hair.
