Best Friend's Sister - Alexis Winter Page 0,46
toward the house.
“God and her fucking body.”
“Alright, easy now,” Drake says.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fucking serious. Goddamn, she’s sexy as fuck. Her tits are like fucking melons. Melons I want to stick my face between and go…” I make the motorboat sound while shaking my head back and forth.
Colton breaks into hysterical laughter, but I don’t stop. I don’t know why I don’t fucking stop.
“And I swear, her pu—”
“Nope, that’s enough, Hudson. Shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have,” Drake says.
“I don’t see how that’s possible.” Colton laughs out.
The two of them mange to get me inside and toss me down on the couch. It screeches across the floor with my weight.
“What in the holy fuck is going on out here?” Celeste asks, walking out and wrapping her robe around herself.
Drake looks at her, me, then back. “Drunk brother. Nothing to worry about.”
Celeste looks down at me. “Hudson, what’s wrong?” Concern shows on her face as she sits on the edge of the couch by my feet.
I lull my head back as sleepiness takes over. “I fucked her on the kitchen table just a few hours ago,” I confess. “I threw everything off of it, picked her up, and fucked her right on her brother’s kitchen table.”
Colton dies laughing, nearly falling over.
Celeste’s eyes grow in size as she looks at Drake. “What’s he talking about?”
Drake waves his hand through the air. “He’s drunk, in love, and now single. You know the combination.”
She nods. “Hudson, you just sleep it off. Everything will be better in the morning.”
I shake my head. “Nothing will be better in the morning.”
“Shhh, you just get some rest.” My eyes close, but I feel her stand up.
“God, I miss her,” I mumble, sleep taking over.
I wake in the morning to the sounds of a crying baby. I groan and roll over, refusing to open my eyes in fear of the blinding pain that I know will be shooting through me.
“He’s still asleep?” I hear Celeste ask. “Are you sure he’s alive? Have you checked?”
Drake chuckles. “I saw his chest move. He’s breathing.”
“Okay, I just don’t want a dead guy left on my couch all day.”
“I’m alive,” I shout toward the kitchen where I hear the voices coming from.
Drake walks out, hands in his jean pockets and smile on his face. “How you feeling?”
“Like dog shit that’s been eaten and then thrown back up. And then run over by a car.”
He laughs. “That sounds pretty bad.” He walks over to the recliner and sits down. I force myself to sit up, resting my elbows on my knees as I hold my head in my hands.
“You want something to eat?”
“God, no,” I answer, afraid to even think of food.
“Are you sure? Celeste and I can whip you up some eggs and some bacon. Maybe some biscuits smothered in greasy gravy,” he jokes, smiling the entire time.
“Are you trying to get me to barf all over you, ‘cause that’s all that’s going to happen if you keep talking.”
He laughs. “Alright. Well, you heading home then?”
I groan. “Home.” I throw myself back. “How am I supposed to live with her and not touch her?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but you’re going to have to unless you move out. You wanting to move out?”
“No,” I reply. “Brad needs help paying the rent right now, and I don’t want Deven pitching in. She needs to save her money to get her own place. I’m kind of trapped at the moment.”
“Well, then it looks like it’s just something you’re going to have to deal with.” He slaps my knee as he stands up and leaves the room.
Two hours later, I’m walking back into the apartment, hungover as fuck. Brad and Deven are both sitting on the couch, laughing and watching TV. It’s nice to see her laugh. Wish it was something I felt like doing.
“Whoa, walk of shame!” Brad says with a smile as I come walking in.
“Shh. Not so loud, man. I’m hungover as fuck,” I mumble, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. I notice how clean the kitchen is and know that I didn’t do it. Not only did I walk out on her, but I left her to clean up the mess of our demise. I walk back through the living room, heading for my room.
“Who was the hot date?” Brad asks.
“Jim, Jack, and Jose,” I answer.
“Wonder what’s gotten under his skin. He never drinks like that,” Brad says,