Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I even remember my first martini, extra dirty, just how I like it.
Things became a bit blurrier as the night wore on, but I know I had so much fun with my college friends. It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to go out and have an unfettered good time. I know this was possible because I was in a secure location, and I had security guards who were not going to judge me if I got wild. There was so much dancing and laughter and reconnecting with old friends, I didn’t want the night to end. The only thing missing was Marius—I know he would’ve had a blast too. If it weren’t for a prior commitment, he would’ve been my date.
As the evening wore on, my buzz got really good. I definitely remember Jackson hauling Baxley off the dance floor because he tried to grab me. I even recall the feel of his fingertips as they brushed against my hips and the slight shudder that went up my spine. I knew it was Baxley because there was not one person in the entire reception hall, out of all those hundreds of people in attendance, who would have dared touch me without permission.
Except Baxley.
The guy had always creeped me out at university, and I didn’t care for him at all. Over the course of the evening, he became more aggressive in his attempts to get my attention. I managed to handle it fine on my own, and when I saw him coming up behind me with the intent to grab on, I probably would’ve handled that just fine as well.
I’m quite sure my knee would have connected with his nuts. I can’t even imagine the headlines that would’ve made, but it would’ve been worth it. And while things are fuzzy, one of the last things I remember with any real clarity is how hot Jackson looked hauling Baxley out of the reception.
So in control.
Commanding.
Ruthless.
It pushed my buttons and made me wonder what it would be like to be with a man like him. Not just sexually, although I certainly do wonder about that, but with a man who exuded such confidence. It’s truly an unknown to me.
Marius is about as close as I’ll ever come to knowing a man with that level of confidence, and even he has his insecurities. But Marius is moot because I’m not attracted to him.
I am, however, attracted to Jackson Gale, and sometime in that drunken haze last night, I came to realize it.
I mean, what woman wouldn’t be? With his dark hair and glowing hazel eyes, and while I haven’t seen him in anything other than a tuxedo, suits, or a T-shirt and jeans such as he’s wearing now, there is no doubt his body underneath is honed to perfection.
Things got downright murky after Jackson handled Baxley. I had another martini, thinking it would calm me after the adrenaline rush of watching Jackson so effortlessly handle someone who tried to touch me. I got a bug in my brain about Jackson Gale, amplified by the alcohol, no doubt, and I have a vague recollection of telling Rachel I should haul him back to my hotel room and take advantage of him. She snorted so hard, champagne shot out her nose, but then she agreed it was a grand idea.
We then spent several minutes whispering about the possibility of doing such a thing, but somewhere deep in my drunken brain, I knew there was no amount of alcohol that would ever let me do something like that. I’m too unsure of myself.
After that, things went from murky to black. I don’t remember the rest of the evening nor how I got to my bedroom, although I am sure Jackson and Paul escorted me. I have no recollection how I got into my pajamas, but I’m confident I did that on my own because I found my dress and shoes thrown on the floor, which is not like me at all. I’m quite sure I passed out as soon as I hit the bed.
After guzzling water this morning, I laid back down on the bed for a while. We weren’t scheduled to leave until the evening, so I had plenty of time to nurse my hangover. As I tried to flush my system, I remembered bits and pieces of other memories.
Somehow I ended up on the floor.
Jackson crashed into my room.
I vomited. Copious amounts.
And Jackson squatted beside me in the bathroom, holding my hair so it wouldn’t fall into the toilet.
Then came a moment I remember with great clarity. I’d expelled most of the alcohol from my stomach and had just put my head down on the porcelain toilet seat, thinking how gross it was but also how comforting. Jackson was still beside me, and my eyes drifted to the side, taking in his powerful thighs with his gray sweatpants stretched over them.