False Start (The Park Brothers #3)

1. Cory

Chapter one

Cory

T he blaring of my phone jars me from my sleep. Ugh. It can't really be morning, can it? Not when my eyes feel like I just shut them ten minutes ago after pulling an all nighter, and my throat feels so scratchy, I'll need a gallon of water before I can even swallow?

I see the time on my bedside clock.

5:46 AM

Fuuuck! In all of yesterday's comings and goings, I must've forgotten to turn off my alarm. Under normal circumstances, I'd be dragging my ass out of bed for a jog around Central Park, but it's not every day your baby brother ties the knot…with a woman he's known for barely a year. A woman who, despite my best efforts, hates my guts.

I rub my palms into my eye sockets to clear my bleary vision and swipe the hair from my face. A visit to the barber may be in order.

In truth, "best efforts" is probably a stretch by even the most generous standards. My new sister-in-law caught me talking out of my ass after a nightmare of a day and things haven't been right since. Despite apologies to both her and my baby brother, Adam, things are still pretty strained. Even though I bought the expensive espresso machine from their registry!

Whatever. What's done is done. She's family now, so I guess I've got time to smooth things over. I've given up hope she'll cut me a break and just get over it. Even if that would be perfectly reasonable given it was one slip and it happened months ago.

My phone starts up again, and each muffled chime is a shovel to the face thanks to the world's worst hangover. After a day spent celebrating my youngest brother's blessed union— eye roll! —and schmoozing with relatives, half of whose names I didn't even know, getting blind drunk and hooking up with a cutie at the reception seemed like a brilliant idea. I'm paying for it now, though.

I search through the sheets to turn off the offending device once and for all, but instead of the hard plastic of my phone case, my fingers brush against warm, soft skin. Hmmm. Interesting . With only a sliver of light streaming through my bedroom curtains, I hadn't realized I wasn't alone. I'm not much for cuddling—I'm actually emphatically anti -cuddling—but I can hardly fault the woman for staying if I wasn't awake to kick her out. Fingers crossed the dreaded "whiskey dick" didn't impede my performance last night, though the three open condom wrappers on the nightstand would indicate I'm in the clear. Three, huh? Good for me .

I finally silence my phone after finding it wedged between the mattress and the headboard. My mystery cutie grumbles lightly in her sleep, then snuggles further into my pillow. The comforter falls away with the movement, revealing delicate ankles, muscular calves, thick, lightly dimpled thighs, and an ass that has my dick standing at attention. Her skin is dark brown like mahogany and smooth like satin, glowing even in the dim light.

Damn . Drunk Cory did good! No "whiskey dick" and no "beer goggles"? I might have to get Mystery Cutie's number so we can link up again, preferably when I'm sober enough to remember. As quietly as possible, I lean forward to sneak a look at her face, but the damn pillow's in the way and my bladder is reminding me I had more than a few drinks last night.

I tip toe to the bathroom and take care of my morning needs while brainstorming how to get Mystery Cutie out of my apartment. I don't do the awkward "morning after" thing. Never have. We link up, have some fun, and if it's really fun, maybe we do it again. The few times I've deviated from my strict regimen of casual sex into relationship territory have always managed to bite me in the ass.

I throw on a pair of sweats and as I'm pulling a t-shirt over my head, my toe catches on a pile of clothes on the floor.

"Shit!" I shout, coming down hard on the side of the bed, but managing not to completely wipe out.

The heavy thud of my body against the mattress is enough to jolt Mystery Cutie out of her slumber. She sits up abruptly, and the comforter pools around her waist, revealing huge, perky tits tipped with even darker brown nipples. The chill in my bedroom makes them stiffen, and my mouth waters.

Wow . Drunk Cory seriously outdid himself. There are few things I love more than a great big pair of tits. Big Naturals was my favorite website back in my horny teen years, though the silicone ones work just fine, too. As long as they're big enough to smother me, I'm happy. I will definitely have to get this woman's number…and her name. I'm assuming she won't appreciate any nicknames I might come up with.

Except…the more I look at her stunned face, mouth gaping and eyes wide in surprise, the more I realize that I actually know this beauty. Know her and was purposely trying to avoid her, though I would have changed my mind if I'd known she was hiding all—I give her body another quick once over— this . It's Denise, one of the bridesmaids, and one of Maya's best friends.

Fuck fuck fuck!! I seriously doubt "fuck her best friend in a drunken stupor" is a step on the path to reconciliation with Maya. And now I really wish I could remember last night, because this will never happen again.