Chapter 2

Besties reuniting means drinks all around.

Michael drank plenty too.

By the end, Sarah passed out face-down on the table.

But I wasn’t drunk.

I knew some things you can only pull off pretending to be wasted.

So I pressed a palm to my forehead. Acted dizzy. Slumped straight into his lap.

My head rested against his thigh. Warm. Firm.

“You’ve had too much.”

Alcohol gave me courage. I reached up. Touched his face.

“You’re so handsome, Michael.”

Fingers slid slow down his cheek. Over stubble. Down his throat. Felt his Adam’s apple bob.

Lower still. Along collarbone. Over the hard planes of his chest.

When I reached his abs, his large hand clamped mine fast.

“You’re drunk.” Voice low. Rough. Sexy as sin. “Let me take you to your room.”

“Okay… to the room.” I pouted. “But I can’t walk. Carry me.”

He didn’t hesitate. Arms slid under me. Lifted me effortless.

“Good. I’ll carry you.”

Michael stared down. Desire burned open in his eyes. Dark. Hungry.

My heart raced. Thought I’d won.

But then his gaze cleared. Control snapped back.

He carried me inside. Laid me gentle on the bed. Knelt. Slipped off my shoes one by one.

Tucked the blanket over me. Stood to leave.

I kicked the covers off. Whined soft.

“Michael… don’t go. I’m so hot…”

“These clothes… too tight. Hard to take off…”

“Michael… Michael…”

I sat up swaying. Grabbed his hand. Yanked hard.

He wasn’t ready. Stumbled forward. Fell over me.

His full weight pinned me a second. Then he caught himself on one arm.

But his free hand landed perfect—right on my soft chest.

Palm pressed warm through thin fabric. Nipple hardened instant under the pressure.

Electricity shot everywhere. Tingles. Heat. Wet rush between my thighs.

Breath caught. Body arched up into his touch without thinking.

He froze. Eyes locked on mine. Pupils blown wide.

I couldn’t stop now. Too far gone.

My smaller hand covered his big one. Guided it. Pressed firmer.

Made him squeeze.

Soft flesh filled his palm. I moaned quiet.

“Michael…” Voice breathy. “Does that feel good?”

“Mmm, ye—”

Before he finished, he pinched himself hard and jumped off me.

“Sorry, I drank too much. Rest well—I'm going.”

He fled the room like he was escaping.

I sighed and flopped back. Was I really not attractive to him at all?

Or did he prefer sweet and innocent types, not aggressive ones?

If so, tomorrow morning I'd apologize!

No, that would be too obvious.

I'd pretend I blacked out from drinking—remember nothing.

Then build a pure, sweet-girl image and slowly break down his defenses until he fell for me!

Lost in thought, I heard strange noises.

Listening closely, they were coming from next door—Michael's room!

I tiptoed to his door; it was ajar, a small crack open.

Peeking in, my eyes widened.

Michael was shirtless, leaning against the headboard, lower half covered by a gray blanket, his hand moving rhythmically under it.

Guys need release sometimes—understandable.

But what shocked me: as his movements lifted the blanket edge, I saw he was holding something purple.

That purple was my lace thong with ties—I'd just washed it and hung it on the balcony tonight!

Smiling, I gently pushed the door open.