I had forgotten. I was already somewhat turned on from how he’d looked at me naked. Taking in how affected he was now seeing my most private parts sent an achy pressure between my legs. “Oops.” I bit my lip as I sat down on my butt.
“It’s not funny, Shi,” Creed grumbled.
I tried not to smile and failed. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t sound very sincere even to my own ears.
Creed looked like he was fighting back a smile. “You’re a little tease when you’re drunk.”
I pulled on a curl, feeling a tiny bit shy. “What if I wasn’t teasing?”
Creed ran his hands down his face as he cursed again. “How am I supposed to say no to that?”
“You two are killing me,” Colt said and grabbed my hand. “Lay down, please.”
I frowned. “They have a name for what you’re doing.”
Creed erupted with laughter. His body shook so hard he was bent over with his hands on his knees.
Colt looked like he wanted to laugh, too. “Babe,” he said gently. “We are trying to be respectable boyfriends who do right by their girlfriend. Don’t make it harder on us, please.”
How could I argue with that? I slid under the blankets and Colt wrapped his arm around me.
I watched Creed as he stripped down to his boxer briefs with zero shame. “Like what you see?” he asked me as he tossed his clothes in his laundry basket.
I propped my head up on my hand. “It’s only fair. You looked your fill when I was naked.”
“Would you like me to take my boxers off so we can be even?” he asked.
Yes almost fell out of my mouth, but Colt’s arms tightened around me. “Keep your boxers on. Same goes for you, babe. Clothes stay on until you are sober.”
I sighed frustratedly.
Chuckling, Creed turned off the light. The bed dipped when he climbed in next to me.
“I have a question,” I said.
Creed scooted closer. “Of course you do.”
“Why can’t we do stuff because I’m drunk? I get that you don’t want to take advantage, but what if I want to?” I asked.
“And what stuff is that?” Creed asked and I swore I could hear the laughter in his voice.
Colt sighed. “Don’t encourage this.”
Creed chuckled. “Fine. Shi?”
“Yes?”
“Why can’t this stuff you speak of wait until you’re sober?” Creed asked. “Why take the risk of crossing a line?”
“That’s a very good point. I wish my hormones understood that right now,” I said.
Both of them snorted. Creed cupped my cheek. “Time for sleep.”
I bit my tongue to keep myself from arguing. I didn’t want to sleep.
7
Mr. X pulled me off my bedroom floor by my hair. My throat was so sore from screaming, all I could do was grit my teeth through the pain. He was trying to get me on my bed. I couldn’t let him do that.
The moment my feet were flat on the ground, I fought. I hit him, kicked him, and scratched him. He grunted a curse when I clawed his cheek.
His hand wrapped around my throat and squeezed. Digging my nails into his hand and wrist that held me, I tried to suck in what little air I could. His other hand appeared out of nowhere. I only got a glimpse of it before pain flared like lighting on the left side of my face. I flew backward. I braced to hit my bed, but it never came, and I continued to fall.
I lurched up into a sitting position with the feeling of falling still twisting up my stomach. I was breathing heavily, and my heart was pounding in my chest as if I’d just got done running.
A hand rubbed up and down my arm. “Bad dream?” Creed asked, his voice heavy with sleep.
I looked from him to Colt, who was sound asleep on my other side. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” I whispered.
Creed didn’t argue and was out within seconds. Doing my best not to wake them, I clambered out from between them and off the bed.
“Where you going, babe?” Colt mumbled.
“Bathroom. Go back to sleep,” I whispered.
Colt also didn’t argue and fell back to sleep before I made it to the door. After relieving myself, I washed my hands, took a look at myself in the mirror, and cringed. I had panda eyes. My dark lipstick had smeared to one cheek. Hovering over the sink, I splashed water on my face and did my best to wash most of my makeup off.
As I dried my face and hands, I noticed my hands were shaking. I squeezed them into fists, hoping that would make them stop. My knuckles turned white and my nails dug into my palms until it hurt. Physical pain always felt better than what I was feeling on the inside. I needed to go for a run.