Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) (4 page)

I smiled. “You mean someone to worry about money with?”

“Among other things,” she said. “Isn’t love supposed to make
everything a little more tolerable?”

“So they say.”

“Are you done?”

“What?”

“Are you done with your beers?”

“Oh. Um…” I lifted the bottle in my hand and finished the last
warm third. “Yeah. Looks like I am.”

“Want to go in and make sure we haven’t missed anything?”

“Sure,” I said.

Because we weren’t total jerk offs, Danielle and I brought our
empties back to the porch. So at least Trey’s parties wouldn’t come to an end
because someone left booze in the treehouse.

As I set the bottles on the ground below the overflowing glass
table, I noticed Ian was still hanging out by the keg.

“Where have you guys been?” he asked.

“Watching 70’s porn,” Danielle said.

I flinched.

He blushed. “Kate, can I talk to you for a minute?”

I found it amusing that he had the nerve to ask me for anything.
Even if it was just a moment of my time. But I was feeling a little more
charitable in my drunken state.

I looked at Danielle.

“Do what you want,” she said. “I have to go check on Becca
anyway.”

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“I’ll call you if I do.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I turned back towards Ian in time to see him
handing off keg pumping duty to one of his lacrosse lackeys.

“C’mon,” he said, heading into the house.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to talk to you in private.”

“If you think I’m going upstairs with you-”

“Not upstairs.”

I sucked in my cheeks and resolved to act less drunk. After all,
being drunk and alone with him is what got me into this mess in the first
place.

He came to a stop in front of the mystery closet. I watched him
pull something out of his pocket and fumble with the lock.

“Where did you get that?”

“Trey’s not as smart as he looks.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Quick,” he said, opening the door.

I stepped into the dark closet and he followed, closing the door
behind him.

“I’m a little old for seven minutes in heaven Ian-”

He flicked the light on. “How about seven minutes indulging in
heavenly wine?”

I looked around the closet. It was as big as a parking spot, and
the walls were lined with wine racks.

“Wow,” I said. “I’ve always wondered what was in here.”

“Well now you know,” he said, making a grand sweeping gesture.
“Choose your pleasure.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Some of these could be hundreds of
dollars.”

“C’mon, I wanted to surprise you with something nice to make up
for being such an idiot.”

I took a deep breath and noticed that the wines were sorted by
region with each section denoted by a small gold plate.

“Don’t worry. Trey told me his Dad doesn’t even keep the
valuable ones in here because he doesn’t want to accidentally drink one.”

“And he told you that he didn’t mind if we helped ourselves?”

Ian scrunched his face. “Not exactly.”

“What exactly?”

“He told me his Dad probably wouldn’t notice if one was
missing.”

“I see.”

“C’mon Kate.” Ian stepped up to me. “Have a drink with me? I’ve
been waiting all night to show you this.”

I felt a warm twist in my belly that didn’t make sense. I mean, I
spent the whole week convincing myself I was repulsed by this douchebag. So how
did I end up alone in a wine closet with him?

“One bottle,” I said.

A smile spread across his face. “You pick. I insist.”

I didn’t know much about wine, but I noticed that the Beaujolais
section of the closet looked crowded. So I slid one out of its cubby and handed
it to Ian.

“Excellent choice,” he said, pulling a wine opener out of his
back pocket.

“Is it? I don’t know anything about wine.”

“Me neither,” he said. “It just seemed like the thing to say. I
just know that it comes in two colors: red and white.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a pink one, too.”

“Seriously?” he asked. “Well good thing I had you pick then. You’re
obviously an expert compared to me.”

I smiled and ached for him even though I didn’t want to.

He took a seat on the floor, and I joined him on the ground.

“You first,” he said, tipping the neck of the bottle towards me.

“Thanks,” I said. I lifted the bottle to my lips and took the
first swig. “It’s
delicious
.”

He took the bottle back and raised it in the air. “To Mr. Ford,”
he said before taking a big gulp. “Mmm.” He furrowed his brow. “I’m getting a
pungent tang of-” He licked his lips. “Hmm. What is that?”

“Grapes?” I guessed.

“Yes! Grapes! That’s what it is,” he said, sniffing the opening
of the bottle. “And there’s an earthy potpourri of sunshine and French
arrogance.”

“Couldn’t have described it better myself.” I took another sip,
feeling ever more lightheaded. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I felt like
royalty drinking Coors and fine wine in the same night!  

Ian let his leg fall against mine and looked at me like a
hopeful, horny school boy.

I passed him the bottle. “So why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

I gave him a look.

He looked down between his feet. “I told you. It was a big
misunderstanding.”

“Please explain.”

“I mentioned you in the locker room.”

I rolled my eyes. “Charming.”

“Which I shouldn’t have done.”

“Clearly.”

“And Chuck asked if you had a bush like 70’s porn star. And I
hesitated to answer him because that’s obviously none of his business. So he
assumed you did even though I eventually said you didn’t.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” He ran a hand
through his shiny hair. “I mean, shit, Kate. I like you. A lot. You make the
other girls in our class seem so shallow and dull and-”

“Okay. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Sure I do. It was a misunderstanding. Locker room bullshit that
just spun out of control.”
Nothing to freak out and trim my hedge over.

He nodded.

I sighed. “Sorry I kicked you in the balls.”

“Me, too,” he said. “That sucked.”

I shrugged.

“I can’t believe I still like you after you did that.”

I felt a burst of warmth in my cheeks.

“And I figured out how you can make it up to me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Go to homecoming with me.”

“What?”

“Sorry. I meant will you go to homecoming with me?”

My head was spinning. I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t think
straight. Of course I liked him, and I wanted to believe his story. And if I
went to homecoming with him everyone would know that I didn’t have a bush like
a 70’s porn star.

I looked into his bloodshot blue eyes.

Without waiting for my answer, he reached up, pulled my face
towards his, and kissed me. A ripple of heat ran up my spine, and when he
slipped his tongue in my mouth, my mind went blank.

As his kisses became more intense, I began to worry that I
wouldn’t be able to stop the trajectory. And I was torn.

I mean, I wanted to see if he would last this time, but I didn't
want him to know I gave my pussy a buzz cut over a stupid misunderstanding. And
then there was the fact that I might never have another chance to do it in a
wine closet.

But I needn’t have worried about any of that. Because a second
later someone started banging on the closet door.

And it turned out that someone was the cops.

I woke up to the sound of drilling in my brain.

But as my eyes broke free from the shackles of the previous night’s
mascara, I realized the sound was just Mick’s snoring.

I didn’t get up right away. I had a monstrous headache that reminded
me why I no longer drank whiskey by the barrel. And I was afraid of the pain
that would rush over me if I got vertical too quickly.

Plus, I was mesmerized by the sound of Mick’s breathing. It was
comforting somehow. Like Snarls’ purr. But it sounded so strange. Almost
foreign.

I used to be so familiar with the sound of a sleeping man. So at
home. But lying there and listening to Mick’s snoring filled me with a tangible
loneliness. Male company was no longer the norm for me. Being with him was a
fluke, an accident. It was like I was living someone else’s life. Or my old
life again.

I knew if I waited long enough, he would throw an arm over me
and nuzzle into the nape of my neck. When he woke up, he would press his
morning wood against me and run his hands over my body. We’d be right back
where we started.

And as much fun as that might’ve been, I couldn’t let it happen.

Of course it had been entertaining the night before to act like
no time had passed. Like it was only yesterday that we were traveling the
country in a dirty van and sharing everything down to our toothbrush. But it
was all a farce. And the harsh morning light made that painfully clear.

Not only had too much time passed since we’d spent the night
together, but gravity had weighed down on us, too. Surely the last thing a
failed rock star needed was to go to bed with a young woman and wake up with an
old maid. Not that I was a hag. Or even a spinster. But I wouldn’t be doing
either of us any favors if I ruined the fantasy of it all.

And it would be
so me
to just be gone in the morning when
he woke up. He wouldn’t take it personally. More importantly, he would remain
on the outskirts. Which is where I wanted him.

I was old enough to know that it’s rare to have an uncomplicated
relationship. I wasn’t about to spoil what we had by sticking around.

And I couldn’t risk him wanting to take me out again. Even for a
slice of pizza. I couldn’t let him back into my life. If I did, he might eventually
discover the truth: that I was doing the one thing we never believed either of
us would do.

I was dying.

Plus, Mick already let it slip that he was surprised
(disappointed even?) that I wasn’t a Madame or an Heiress. The least I could do
was let him believe that I had retained my feisty unpredictability. I wanted
him to remember me as the girl that could keep up with the boys, the kind of
girl that would never cough up blood in the middle of a party.

After all, the only thing I was more committed to than having a
good time was not being a buzz kill. And it’s for that reason that I had no
choice but to kiss him on his sleepy, beautiful forehead and slip out of the
room. It was the best way to make sure my visit would be interpreted as a
pleasant run in with a ghost from the past and nothing more.

When I got in the car, I lit a cigarette, but I was so ill and
lightheaded after two puffs I had to throw it out. Then I swung by Dunkin
Donuts just like I used to on all my walks of shame. Or drive in this case.

Of course, I didn’t feel any shame about sleeping with Mick. I’d
slept with him countless times before. It’s not like he was a stranger who
didn’t give a shit about whether he satisfied me.

And he certainly had. In fact, the last thing I remembered was
the smug grin that stretched across my face in the dark hotel room just before
I passed out.

It was only when I couldn’t finish my breakfast sandwich that I
realized how severe my hangover was. I tried to fall asleep on the couch, but
it was no use. I couldn’t sleep through the pounding in my brain. And I was afraid
to take a bunch of pain killers because I suspected that there was still a
lethal amount of whiskey in my system.

After all, I held the remote the wrong way when I tried to turn
the TV on. Then I knocked everything off the bathroom counter into the sink
when I tried to brush my teeth. I even kept forgetting that I only had one leg
out of my leather pants, and every time I remembered I couldn’t bring myself to
finish the job.

The fact that I’d gotten into them earlier that morning was a
miracle.

To make matters worse, a car alarm went off in the street
outside. And the noise got so irritating I wished I had a rifle to wave out the
front door so someone would turn the fucking thing off.

Then again, I lived in an apartment building. No one would even
see me. And it’s not like I was going to shoot anyone.