[2016] First Comes Love Read online

  “We’re not playing fucking Uno. You don’t get to go until someone gets it wrong,” I chuckle. “But…” I take the shot to let her know I have done that. We keep asking questions, and it turns out there isn’t a lot I haven’t done. She’s taken half a shot by the time I’m drunk. My mind is spinning and I can’t filter my thoughts.

  Or my actions.

  “You’ve really never had a one-night stand?” I ask, spilling tequila on the coffee table as I try to fill the shot glass. I give up and drink straight from the bottle.

  She shakes her head, eyes bloodshot. “I’m like … I just … how? Because that person might be yucky.”

  I laugh like it’s the most hilarious thing in the world, because everything is the most hilarious thing in the world when you’re wasted. And fuck. Lauren is the most beautiful thing in the world no matter what.

  “It’s just one night.”

  She shakes her head and almost falls off the couch. I grab her, then we both go tumbling, hitting the floor in a fit of laughter. I pull her onto my chest and push her hair back.

  “One night,” she says softly and looks into my eyes.

  “One little, harmless night.”

  I don’t know what I’m doing, but suddenly I’m kissing her. And she’s kissing me back.

  “Fuck,” she says and pulls away after a few seconds. “No. Can’t … can’t do that.”

  “Right. You’re my friend’s sister.” Each word comes out slowly. My mind is too drunk to think logically, and for the first time, my heart rules over my head. I reach for her, bringing her closer.

  “I liked that,” she slurs.

  And then we are kissing again. I hold onto her, pulling her to me. I’m drunk and I’m desperate and deep down I know I’ve wanted to feel her, to taste her for such a long time that there is no stopping once I get started.

  Right now, I don’t care.

  “No,” Lauren says and moves off of me.

  I just move my head up and down, trying to convince myself that I agree with her, that I’m not going to go back to her. I put the bottle to my lips and take a swig. I make a promise to myself. I’m not going to do anything inappropriate with Lauren. She’s off-limits.

  I stand and extend a hand to help her up. She stumbles, and I catch her. Laughing, she looks up, slowly moving her face closer to mine. I should move away, turn my head, tell her no.

  But I can’t

  She bites her lip and moves in. She kisses me.

  Lauren Winters.

  Kissed.

  Me.

  Holy fuck. I know I’m going to break that promise.

  Chapter 5

  LAUREN

  I’M PRETTY SURE I’m dying. Or maybe I’m already dead. My entire body hurts, my head pounds, and my mouth is drier than the Sahara. The contents of my stomach slosh around like acid and I need to use the bathroom now, but I can’t seem to get my arms and legs to work.

  And I don’t know why.

  I force my eyes open, knowing I’m just seconds away from peeing myself. I’m in my room, tucked under the fluffy down comforter in my bed. It’s warm yet hardly weighs anything, though right now it feels like a lead blanket trapping me against the mattress. Me and my very angry bladder that is screaming it can’t wait much longer.

  My vision is fuzzy and I have to blink several times to look at the clock. It’s eleven thirty. At night? I yank my foot out from under Vader, who sleeps on my legs almost every night, and blink again. No, it’s the day.

  What the hell? I’m too confused to think about it, and right now all I can think of is running to the glorious toilet. I swing my feet over the bed, realize I’m naked, then feel a wave of nausea come on. I cover my mouth and wait for it to pass. I let my eyes close, the light too much to take in. My feet hit the cold hardwood and I shuffle my way to the bathroom, tripping over something. I catch myself and look down, expecting to see a dog toy or my clothes.

  I’m not expecting to see a motorcycle boot. My blood runs cold. I know that boot. I know the foot that goes in it, the leg that foot is connected to, and the body that owns them both.

  Holy shit.

  I know that body very well after last night. I’m suddenly dizzy, and the fear of passing out then waking up in my own urine is the only thing that keeps me from turning and looking in my bed.

  But I don’t have to. I know he’s still there.

  I don’t allow myself to think. I don’t want to recall what happened, what we did to each other—with each other—last night. I barely make it to the toilet on time. The relief I feel from taking the longest pee in the history of pees does nothing to settle my already upset stomach. My hands shake and my head is spinning.

  I slept with Noah Wilson.

  I don’t know why. I don’t know how. Well, the how is self-explanatory … and also explains the rug burns on my knees. I put my head in my hands and try to think back. What happened last night?

  Do I want to remember what happened? I stand and turn on the shower. I went on a date, a date Jenny set up. A date that went horribly wrong. And then I went to that trashy bar and Noah took me home, and … oh god. I recall the rain and sitting on the couch with Noah. I remember his lips pressing into mine, then it’s black from there. I get into the shower, and images of flesh and lust flash before me.

  I can still feel him between my legs, and I know he must have a huge cock or we did it many times. Hell—probably both. And I don’t have carpet in my room to get the rug burn on my knees.

  I’m alone in the shower yet I’m embarrassed. What the hell was I thinking?

  Noah. Fucking. Wilson.

  If I was to hook up with anyone in the world, why did it have to be him? I shake my head. No one can know about this. I turn my face up into the water. No one has to, actually.

  My heart stops racing. Noah won’t tell Colin he slept with his little sister. He might not give a shit about his reputation, but he wouldn’t ruin their friendship. And I won’t tell anyone. As far as I’m concerned, Noah took me home, I went into my room, closed the door, and slept through the night in my own bed—alone—while Noah snoozed on the couch.

  They don’t even have to know he stayed. He could have dropped me off at home and left.

  Yes, that’s a better lie. He dropped me off, I went to bed, and that’s that.

  I go about washing myself, trying not to panic. It was one night. One time. It meant nothing, though I probably won’t be able to look Noah in the eye anytime soon.

  As stupid as it sounds, I have a little ball of dread that I sucked in bed. I’m no virgin, but it’s been a while. Though, if Noah was as drunk as me, maybe he has no idea.

  Oh! Maybe I can get dressed and tell him nothing happened! Yes, I’ll give it a try. Now to convince myself nothing happened … yeah right. March 11th will be tainted forever as the night I had sex with Noah Wilson.

  “Stop,” I say out loud. I’m an adult. I can sleep with who I want, when I want. I have every right to do this.

  So why do I feel so guilty?

  I get out of the shower, towel off, and put on my bathrobe. I tip-toe into my room and close my eyes. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to see those rippling muscles and tattoos.

  I don’t want to feel attracted to him.

  Because I am. And I have been for a while … just like I’ve wondered about him. Of course I’ve thought about Noah as more than my brother’s friend. More than once. More than twice, if I’m being honest. It’s like someone putting a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries in front of you and not thinking about eating one. Wondering how fast the chocolate will melt in your mouth. Wanting to know how sweet and juicy the strawberry is, how good it will feel as it pushes past your lips and hits your tongue.

  He not be the ideal hookup, but he’s attractive and he knows it, and I always assumed he knows his way around a woman’s body. And, of course, I had a chance to see just how good he is and I can’t remember a fucking thing.

  I let out a breath a
nd flick my eyes to the bed. Noah is still sleeping. He’s on his back and is naked, with the blanket barely covering his junk, which is disappointing. I hoped to check out the equipment used to rail me last night. He has one arm above his head, and the other is wrapped around Sasha, who’s snuggled up with her head on his chest.

  Even I have to admit that’s adorable. Vader has taken over my spot, sprawled out and comfy. Waking up to this—a hot guy cuddled in my bed with my dogs—is something I can get used to.

  If only that hot guy wasn’t Noah.

  I creep to the other side of my room and get clean underwear, leggings, and a sweatshirt. I go into the hall to get dressed, then sneak into the living room.

  My pajama pants are on the couch. So are Noah’s boxers. Well, I guess that answers where I got the rug burns. The bottle of tequila is on its side, and it’s empty. My stomach churns just looking at it.

  The shot glasses are on the floor, and there is a stain on the coffee table from spilled booze. I grab the bottle, glasses, and my pants. I find my shirt when I go into the kitchen. The shock is leaving and I’m feeling like complete and total shit from being hungover as fuck.

  I force myself to drink an entire glass of water before I fire up the coffee pot. I need to eat something, and I’m starving and nauseous at the same time. I drink another glass of water, have to pee again already, then finally pour a cup of coffee.

  I bring it to my face and inhale, the aroma instantly soothing my nerves. There is almost nothing a good cup of coffee can’t solve.

  Almost.

  I mix in just a bit of creamer and grab the bag of bread that was left out on the counter from last night. I think I made sandwiches. Knowing I should eat something, I put two pieces of bread in the toaster and get out the butter. That seems safe, and will put something other than bile and leftover tequila in my stomach.

  I feed the dogs, get my toast, then sit at the table carefully eating, still unable to remember exactly went down last night, other than Noah. On me. Because that’s how I’ve imagined it.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. No. That wasn’t a tiny bit of desire that tingled my lady bits when I imagine his bearded face between my thighs, skin getting red from the burn of his facial hair.

  Gah, no, just no!

  I take another sip of coffee and let out a steadying breath. I might not remember what happened, but I’m sure I enjoyed it.

  And I’m allowed to.

  I lean back in the chair and take a few more sips of coffee, reminding myself what I did was more than okay, and I’m actually feeling a bit empowered. Everything is fine. It was one night. We never have to think about this again.

  And I’m definitely no prude.

  “Hey, baby,” Noah says, his voice thick with sleep. I turn, almost having forgotten he’s here, and quickly close my eyes. He’s naked, standing in the threshold of the kitchen. His hair is a rumbled mess, and there are pillow creases on his face.

  He does not look adorable. I am not feeling turned on by the sight of his bare skin. I do not want to gaze at his glorious body, tattoos and muscles and that stupid V that guides my eyes to his perfect cock.

  “I’m not your baby,” I say and stand to let the dogs out.

  “Well you were last night.”

  My hand freezes on the doorknob. Dammit. He remembers. “Well, I, uh…” I stumble over my words. Vader paws at the door. I shake myself and let both dogs out, then turn to face Noah.

  Shit, I looked right at his package. And shit, it looks nice. Even now when it’s just hanging in front of him. I hold up my hand.

  “Put some clothes on,” I say and Noah laughs. “I’m serious, Noah.”

  “Fine, fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

  I force myself to look into his eyes. “We shouldn’t have done … whatever it is we did.”

  “Ah, shit, you don’t remember either?” He walks through the kitchen—still bare-ass naked—and sits at my seat, eating my leftover toast. “I was hoping you’d at least tell me I rocked your world.”

  I cross my arms. I’m able to look at him now. I can pretend he has pants on.

  “No, I don’t remember. And let’s keep it that way, okay?”

  He laughs again, then shakes his head like it hits him all at once. “Fuck.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Fuck.” He’s looking a little sick now. Is the thought of sleeping with me that repulsive? I know I haven’t shaved my bikini line in a few, uh, days? Weeks? Hell if I know. Nobody else was supposed to see it but me. “Seriously. Fuck. I fucked you.”

  Then I know exactly what he’s thinking. He slept with his best friend’s little sister.

  “This never happened,” I say.

  Noah nods and picks up my coffee. Oh hell no. I rush over and take it from him, sloshing some down the side. “Get your own cup.”

  I regret my words as soon as he gets up and turns around, and I’m looking right at his tight ass. That ass I probably gripped while he thrusted in and out of me.

  Maybe?

  Oh my god. I let out a breath and bring the cup of coffee to my lips.

  “I don’t recall exactly what happened,” Noah says and opens cabinets in search of a coffee cup. I can’t stop staring at his butt.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Neither do I. And that’s fine. Probably better that way. As far as I’m concerned, you took me home and crashed on the couch while you waited out the rain,” I say.

  “Sounds good to me. And don’t go getting attached. I don’t do relationships.”

  “You’re a pig.” I finish my coffee and feel sick. Ugh. I’m never drinking again. “And don’t worry. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gotten me drunk.”

  “Like you could resist this,” Noah says, wiggling his eyebrows and shaking his hips. I look away. I’ve resisted that since I’ve known him, since I was fifteen years old, thinking he was the most gorgeous boy in the world. Over the years, the boy turned into man, and still held a spot in my mind as one of the best-looking males out there.

  “I can. Easily. Now get dressed and get out. I have, uh, a lot to do today.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He locates a mug and fills it with coffee, then sits back down. So much for leaving. “You’re not going to tell your brother, are you?”

  I widen my eyes. “No! He would probably kill you.”

  “Meh, he can try.”

  I shake my head. It was one night. One night. One. Night. Noah will leave, soon hopefully, and this awkward moment will be over with and we can move on with our lives.

  And I’ll never have to think about it again.

  Chapter 6

  LAUREN

  Six weeks later…

  I AM DRAGGING. Completely and totally dragging ass and no amount of coffee can wake me up today. I shouldn’t have stayed up past my bedtime reading, but I had to find out what happened to Edie Harker, the vampire hunter. Had to. And one more chapter led to finishing the damn book

  I’m paying for it now.

  Though, truth is I’ve been feeling run down for a week now. I’m not sick, don’t have a fever, yet something is … off.

  “Late night?” Julie asks me sit down for lunch.

  “Too late,” I say, and poke at the beans and rice that came with my tacos. There’s a little hole-in-the wall Mexican restaurant close to the clinic and is my go-to when I’m too lazy to pack a lunch. I get the same thing every time and love it, but today, Lunch Combination #12 isn’t appealing.

  She laughs. “Don’t tell me you had another ‘one night stand’ with some mystery man again.”

  I glare at her. “It’s possible, and it really did happen.”

  She just laughs again. “Sure it did. Sweet little Lauren went home with someone she didn’t know, and never got a name.”

  I purse my lips and shake my head. I hadn’t told a single soul—not even my best friend Rachel—about Noah. But I couldn’t keep the entire situation a secret. I can’t
keep secrets to save my life. So my friends know I had naughty dirty sex with some hot guy I met at a bar. But that’s all I tell them, and really, that’s all I can tell them.

  I assume the sex I had with Noah was naughty and dirty. And probably sloppy and wobbly; since I was too drunk to remember it, I was too drunk to do, well, anything remotely sexy. In all honestly, I probably got the rug burns on my knees from falling, and then I passed out under Noah as soon as we both finished.

  “I live on the edge, duh,” I say with a smile and set my fork down, unable to eat anything in front of me, and drink my lemonade. I can’t get enough of that.

  Soon enough, I’m busy rewrapping bandages, inserting an IV for the eleventh time into the leg of a beagle that somehow manages to pull it out as soon as our backs are turned, and prepping for surgeries.

  Finally the day is over. I’m exhausted, and my back hurts from hoisting heavy dogs up and down the surgery table all day. I yawn the whole way home, stopping for takeout so I don’t have to cook.

  “Sorry, guys,” I say to the dogs. “I’m too pooped to take you for a walk.”

  Vader cocks his head at the word “walk,” and I feel guilty. It’s a nice night, with a clear sky and warm air. But I just can’t.

  “You had plenty of play time today, and I have a short shift tomorrow. You’ll be fine for one night.” I pat my leg and head to the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll give you an extra treat, okay?”

  If there a better word than “walk,” it’s “treat.” He trots ahead of me. Sasha follows, and I toss them both a handful of treats before getting myself a drink and falling onto the couch. I watch a re-run of Once Upon a Time while I eat.

  I’m so drained from staying up late last night, I shower and get into bed as soon as I’m done eating with the intent of reading a new book, but I’m asleep before I know it, waking when my alarm goes off the next morning.

  Despite over eight hours of sleep, I’m still drained in the morning. What the hell? I must be getting sick. And I’m cramping like crazy. Come on, Aunt Flo. Just show up so I can get this over with and feel better. Stupid hormones.