Bet Me Something (Something Series Book 3) (6 page)

“I worry about
what it might mean to you.”

I crinkled my
nose. “Do you think I’ve never kissed a boy before and will go drawing hearts
and rainbows because of you?” In fact, I’d dated a lot. And by a lot I meant a
large proportion of first dates, a respectable number of second dates, and only
a few third dates. Considering I had a five-date rule before I’d sleep with a
guy, there you had the very reason I was still a virgin. However I’d certainly
kissed my fair share.

He sighed. “No,
but I don’t want it to be weird after.”

“You’re scared.”

The look in his
eyes confirmed the direct hit. “You’re drunk and don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“I’m not that
drunk, I’m just—oh, Lord—” I bolted for the bathroom barely in time to upchuck
the entire contents of my stomach in the toilet. A moment later, I felt his
hands pull my hair back and then a cold washcloth was placed on my forehead
once my stomach was empty.

“You okay?”

The tears
threatened, and I cursed myself. The last thing I needed to do was to ugly cry
in front of him after puking. “I’m humil-a-ted.” Hmm, that didn’t sound right.
“Humy-lated.” It figures I’d humiliate myself further by not being able to
enunciate the very word I was feeling.

 “Don’t be. I
promise you won’t remember this come tomorrow.”

“Wanna bet?”

And that was the
last coherent thing I remembered saying.

I woke slowly,
painfully aware of two things. One: my head felt like it might explode with
what I could only guess was the worst hangover in the history of them, and two:
I wasn’t alone in the bed. Turning slowly, both to avoid disturbing my bedmate
and to keep the nausea at bay, I looked directly into his unbelievably
attractive face.

Holy crap. This
wasn’t the way I’d dreamed of falling into bed with Colby Singer. My fuzzy,
aching brain thought back to last night and tried to piece together what had
happened. I remembered singing as well as returning to the hotel. Then I recalled
trying not to cry over a toilet bowl. Certainly nothing said sexy more than a
drunk, emotional girl. Or even better—as a memory slammed back—a drunk,
emotional girl who threw up upon asking for a kiss as my bet reward. Pathetic:
party of one right here.

I froze when he
moved slightly and then let out a shaky breath, studying the face of the one
man who’d kept me from falling for anyone else my entire life. It was a rare
opportunity to regard him unobserved.

Gorgeous baby
face, with a sexy five o’clock shadow I didn’t see very often. Long lashes on
display, covering up what I knew were striking green eyes. Dark hair slightly
out of place with a lock falling on his forehead and lips made for kissing.
Couldn’t the man at least be snoring to exhibit some sort of defect?

My mind was
screaming that I needed to hop out of bed quickly to brush my teeth and wash
last night’s makeup from my face. The thought of having him see me in what I
could guess was way south of attractive was horrifying, but my throbbing head
was making it difficult to conceive of movement at the moment.

Please stay
asleep, please stay asleep.
I repeated this internally as I silently took
inventory of the room. No sunlight coming in through the windows must mean it
was still early.

Next, I spent a
few moments doing a self-assessment. Damn. The wicked taste in my mouth was
reminiscent of horribly expensive tequila shooters, now mixed with morning breath.
Lovely. Moving my hands under the sheet, I recognized I was in a soft T-shirt
which was way too big. Sniffing it, I realized it smelled like Colby and,
considering he was without one, this was most probably his. Pity the sheet
covered him up to his shoulders. I ran my hands through my tresses, grateful I
wasn’t coming across any foreign matter or large tangles.

My panties were
on: check in positive or negative column depending on the view. Sadly, I
remembered enough to confirm it hadn’t been
that
kind of night.
Expelling a breath, I thought of the irony that I’d hoped this weekend might
provide an opportunity to progress things between us. At this rate, I’d never
accomplish such a goal. Hell, I’d even won a bet and still couldn’t get the man
to kiss me. It was humiliating. Driving that word home, his eyes flickered open
and focused on me. Fuck.My.Life.

“Morning,
sunshine,” his rough voice greeted before flashing his dimples.

“Yeah, yeah.”
Someday I would perfect the art of a sexy response, today clearly wasn’t going
to be that day.

“What? My panty
dropping grin isn’t doing it for you this morning?”

“Oh, my God.” I
slapped my hands over my face and groaned. This wasn’t happening. I hadn’t
shared PDG with him in my drunken state, had I?

When I peeled my
hands back, I could see the cocky arrogance splashed across his face.

“I have to say
I’m embracing the term.”

“Clearly your
ego needed the boost.”

That garnered a smirk.
“Considering you normally don’t feed it, I’m going to soak in this moment.”

Uh, yeah, right.
Having a crush on him for sixteen years wasn’t enough? “What else did I say
last night?”

He chuckled in
response. “That bad, huh?”

“Not great,” I
mumbled, cringing at the sound of my own voice, which was reminiscent of
seasoned chain smoker.

“If you feel
anything like you look, then you’re definitely in rough shape.”

I attempted a
frosty glare. “Thanks a lot.”

Good Lord, now
he had propped himself up on his side, causing the sheet to ride down and
showcase his impossibly toned abs. If I wasn’t busy salivating at the image in
front of me, I might have thought he was a real asshole for teasing me.

“Don’t worry;
despite the matted hair, raccoon eyes, and horrendous smell of your morning
breath, you’re still adorable.”

He proceeded to
pat me on the head. Like a freaking puppy. Oh, yeah, seduction fail number
forty-three. Not that I should bother to count anymore.

“A gentleman
wouldn’t mention those things,” I grumbled, annoyed he was enjoying this far
too much. Although he might insist on seeing himself as the big brother type,
the thoughts I was having were more in line with wanting to follow the start of
his happy trail, something that was peeking out from under the sheet.

He laughed.
“Good thing no one would ever mistake me for a gentleman. Stay here. I’ll get
you some water and Motrin. I’m assuming it’s early yet as my alarm hasn’t gone
off.”

I watched him
cross the room, wishing there was more light, so I could catch a better glimpse
of him in nothing but boxers. Had that beautiful man actually been in bed with
me in merely the one garment, and I’d passed out? Loserville was definitely missing
their mascot with me being in Vegas.

But then a
glimmer of hope sparked. Why had he climbed into bed with me in only his
boxers? It wasn’t something either one of my brothers ever would’ve done. I
decided to embrace the hot mess I was and find out.

He returned with
a large bottle of water and two pills. “Drink,” he urged sitting close to me.
Regrettably, he was now dressed in his jeans and a clean T-shirt.

“I’m wearing
your shirt. How did that happen?” I drank greedily, hoping the water and pills
would help me feel better quickly.

Colby seemed
uncomfortable, blushing slightly. “Uh, after you threw up, I put you into
something clean, doing the big brother thing by changing you.”

Leave it to him
to try to turn this into a brotherly gesture. Only this time I wouldn’t accept
it. I swung my legs out from under the blankets to hang off the side of the
bed, well aware I was in nothing but my panties, with his shirt riding up to my
waist. I winced with the effort. So, the opportunity wasn’t ideal, however I’d
be damned if I was letting him out of this room without finding out if there
was some interest piqued. “If I remember correctly, I have you to partially
blame for the excess drinking, telling me it would help get me on stage to
sing.”

His gaze
traveled down my legs briefly before he practically leapt off the bed. “Guilty
as charged. I shouldn’t have suggested tequila shooters.”

The thought of
it made my mouth water and not in a good way. “I may be off the hard stuff
awhile.”

“What, uh, do
you remember about last night?”

I decided not to
come clean with all I could recall. “Some.”

“At what point
did it start to get fuzzy?”

“Um, we came
back here after I sang, then it gets blurry from there. Did we end up having
hot sex, and I missed it?” Yeah, I couldn’t help myself.

His eyes went
wide. “Nothing happened between us last night, Kenz. I held your hair when you
puked and put you to bed. Your brother Brian would’ve done the same.”

“Really? Because
I don’t think he would’ve climbed into bed with me, stripped down to his
boxers, to spend the night.”

A vein on the
side of Colby’s face throbbed. “Nothing happened,” he reiterated.

I grinned.
“Well, I’d be greatly disappointed if something had, and I woke up without
being the least bit sore.”

He opened his
mouth, then promptly closed it again. Colby at a loss for words. Interesting.
He blew out a harsh breath. “Don’t say shit like that to me. And do me a favor:
don’t advertise the sleeping arrangements to anyone. You were upset about your
day and kept talking, I was trying to ensure you were all right, then we both
fell asleep. Got it?”

I nodded, biting
my lip to keep from laughing at his absurdly serious expression. His baby face
didn’t do serious very effectively. “Yep, Vegas, everything staying here: got
it. One question, though.”

His voice
sounded wary when he asked, “What?”

“Did you see me
naked?”

His face turned
a peculiar shade of pink, giving me my answer, which made me blush in return.

“You weren’t
completely nude. I had to get a shirt on you, and I didn’t think you’d want to
sleep in your bra. Your thong—I mean underwear—stayed put. It was purely
clinical.”

“Clinical?” Did
he really use such a word? I cringed at how he made it sound.

“Uh-huh, like a
nurse would dress a patient. So don’t be embarrassed. I didn’t notice a thing.”

Well, now, this
was a new seduction low. “Okay.”

“How about you
take a shower while I order up some breakfast?”

I got up
unsteadily and shuffled to the bathroom. Holding the doorframe for support, I
turned back to see his gaze tracking me, then snapping up to my face. If I
wasn’t mistaken, he’d been fully focused on my exposed legs.

“See you soon.”
With that, the bedroom door clicked behind him.

Brotherly, my
ass. Quite literally in a thong which was barely covered by his T-shirt. Huh. A
smile curved my lips at the potential behind his heated glance. But by the time
I glimpsed my image in the mirror, all confidence left me. Reflected was a real-life
example of a seduction abomination.

***

After a shower,
breakfast, and with the Motrin kicking in, I was on my way to feeling human
again, so I donned my running gear. My hangover lingered, but I had learned the
hard way, thanks to my sadistic lacrosse coach, that nothing worked better than
to sweat out the alcohol on the morning after drinking. Doing so would also
serve as a painful reminder of why I shouldn’t drink to excess.

Colby came in
through the front door looking as though he’d just returned from the gym and
immediately frowned at my attire, which consisted of a sports bra, shorts, and
my tennis shoes. “Where the hell are you off to?”

“Running.”

My lack of
enthusiasm must’ve been obvious as he quirked a brow. “You feel well enough to
go for a run?”

I downed some
more water, leaning into a side stretch. “Nope, but it’ll help me sweat it out.
My lacrosse coach used to make us suffer after a night of drinking, but I swear
it worked. The only problem is it sucks balls while doing it.”

It was kind of
adorable how he appeared mildly offended by my language. “Do me a favor and
don’t say
balls
again. It’s a weird thing, but hearing a girl say that
word or—” he stopped mid-sentence.

“Or what?”

He sighed. “The
other word that weirds me out is
beaver
.”

I put my hand to
my head because it hurt so much to hear myself laugh this hard.

“Everyone has
those words that make them cringe.” He almost looked embarrassed.

Finally, when I
could breathe through the giggles, I spoke again. “Fair enough. If it makes you
feel better, I’ve got two of my own as well.”

He seemed part
curious and part apprehensive. “Let me guess, one starts with a C.”

“How did you
know?”

“Almost every
woman hates that word.”

“Every woman
hates the word
cute
?” I could probably add
clinical
to the
C
-word
list as well.

“Are you being
serious?”

I nodded. “Yeah,
I mean, I don’t have anything against the word in general, such as: look at the
cute
beaver playing with those balls in the pond.”

He rolled his
eyes, grinning. “Cute.”

We were both
laughing now. “I don’t have a problem with it being used that way, either. It’s
being called cute as a twenty-two-year-old that’s annoying.”

“So noted, but
the other
C
-word doesn’t bother you?”

“You mean
C-U-Next-Tuesday? No, not really.”

He smirked.
“Then why didn’t you say it?”

“Because I was
raised in the South and, although I don’t mind hearing it, I don’t say it.”

He shook his
head, laughing. “Virginia is not the South.”

“Oh, I think
Robert E. Lee would beg to differ. Hello, you grew up there too. Virginia was
the South during the Civil War.”

“Okay, maybe it
was back then, but Northern Virginia is definitely not considered part of the
South now, and since when have you abided by Southern manners?”

“Every time my
mother is paying attention.”

“I get it. Guess
we all do that in front of our parents. Do you prefer to run outside or down on
the treadmill?”