“At least, that's what it felt like. I opened my eyes slowly, aware only of my dry mouth and the pounding in my head. Welcome to being kicked in the crotch. I gripped the bed, which was threatening to tilt. I scrunched one eye open, trying to figure out where I was. All I saw was the enormous, hulking form of a shirtless Chase Layne snoring next to me, his bronze skin glinting in the early morning sun. I shut my eyes tightly again, which only made my head hurt worse. Fuck. I moved a ...little and felt how sore my whole body was. Fuck was right. The last thing I remembered lucidly was drinking margaritas at a Mexican restaurant in Harvard Square. Everything was hazy after that. I only could recall snippets. Chase and I dancing on a table in a club. A club? When the hell did we go to a club? Since when did I dance? How the hell did Chase dance on a table without crushing it?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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