Bet Me Something (Something Series Book 3) by Aubrey Bondurant Read Free Book Online Page A

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.

CHAPTER
FOUR
    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