Prologue #2
Once I could take all of him, he continued his tender movements and kissed me in between. Down my neck and between my shoulder, leaving a small purple bruise where he sucked a little too long.
His hands felt incredible on me too.
So big and firm, he palmed my ass to bring my hips closer to his, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. Then he palmed my breasts and played with the nipples before sucking them into his mouth.
Every touch and kiss set my body on fire.
We stumbled a bit at first, both tipsy from the open bar, but once we found our groove and pacing, it was the best and most surreal moment of my life.
One I’d like to repeat over and over, but until we can talk about what this means, I don’t know if it meant as much to him as it did to me.
Silas is a good-looking guy, but he doesn’t date much.
He was the nerdy kid in high school, but that’s what I liked about him. Even when he teased me, I secretly liked the attention.
But then things changed when my boyfriend, Calvin, picked me up for prom and Silas punched him so hard, he broke my date’s nose.
I spent my senior prom night at the ER with Calvin and then he never talked to me again after that.
Silas’s explanation was that Calvin told the entire baseball team he was gonna pop my cherry in the bed of his truck that night and then add me to the team’s sex ranking chart, which is as disgusting as it sounds.
I don’t know where Silas heard that from or who, but he picked the worst fucking time to do something about it.
Silas and I didn’t talk again until last summer when my friends pressured him to join our bonfire and then dared me to kiss him. Feeling tipsy and bold, I straddled his lap and did what I’d wanted to do for years. But then we never talked about it and I assumed it meant nothing to him.
Which seems to be the story of my pathetic dating life.
I can’t keep a guy interested in me longer than a few months before they give me the “it’s not you, it’s me” bullshit speech.
That’s if I get one at all.
Between that and being ghosted, I’m starting to wonder if I should give up dating until I’m thirty.
But after the mind-blowing orgasm Silas gave me, I’m not sure I want to wait years to experience that again. This time, we’re going to talk about it because I know last night meant something to him, too.
Once I’ve finger-combed my hair and wiped off the mascara smear under my eyes, I grab my shoes and walk out of the bathroom. Silas rolled onto his back, giving me a perfect view of his abs and the happy trail that leads below the sheet.
He has a half-sleeve of tattoos that I’ve admired since he got it done. He wants a full sleeve, so there’s more ink he needs to get done, but it’s attractive as hell as is.
Deciding to wake him up since I don’t know if he set an alarm, I poke his shoulder and mutter his name.
“It’s after ten. We gotta be downstairs in an hour,” I remind him.
He releases something like a groan, and I take that as confirmation he heard me. I don’t have time to babysit him, so he’s going to have to get himself up.
“Don’t be late or Momzilla will burst into flames…” I laugh but then immediately regret it.
All the shots we took last night have my head throbbing.
Crossing my fingers no one is in the hallway to see my walk of shame, I walk barefoot to my room five doors down. I strip and jump in the shower. But when the hot water hits my skin, I frown at washing his touch away, although I’m hopeful it’ll happen again.
After I’m dressed and rush to finish getting ready, I make it downstairs with a few minutes to spare. I smile at Maisie, who’s glowing—although I doubt she got any sleep—and give her a quick hug before heading to the bar for a mimosa.
If I have to be around people for the next hour, I need alcohol to numb this hangover.
There’s a line for the brunch buffet, so I pull out my phone and look through the photos from last night while I wait for it to move. Half of them are dark and blurry, but I can’t help grinning at the ones Silas and I took on the dance floor.
“Surprised you made it.” Warren’s taunting voice grabs my attention in front of me, but he’s not talking to me.
“You and me both,” Silas replies, rubbing his temple.
They’re oblivious to my presence behind them.
“Last time I saw ya, Posey and you were line dancin’ and takin’ shots. She looked like she was havin’ a fun time, so I appreciate you keepin’ an eye on her. Better than her being lonely and depressed.”
Warren asked Silas to keep tabs on me?
Why the fuck did he do that?
And who said I was lonely and depressed…
“Hopefully, it wasn’t too painful for ya since she most likely cock-blocked you,” Warren continues. “How late did y’all stay up?”
Cock-blocked him? If he only knew…or rather, I hope he doesn’t.
Before I can interrupt and demand answers about putting him on babysitting duty, Silas clears his throat with an amused chuckle. “Nah. I barely remember anythin’ after y’all cut the cake, so I’m not sure. I woke up like a half an hour ago and it’s all fuzzy.”
What? That can’t be true.
“Alcohol amnesia, huh?” Warren snickers.
“Pretty much.”
My heart bottoms out in my stomach when the realization hits that Silas was only hanging with me in the first place because Warren asked him to watch me. I should’ve known something was up when Silas asked me to dance after witnessing him turn three other women down.
But that’s not what has my chest squeezing with anger and tears welling in my eyes.
Silas has no memory of slamming me against the elevator wall and claiming my mouth. The kiss was clumsy and passionate, and we laughed at nearly stumbling to the ground when the elevator stopped at our floor.
He has no memory of sliding his hands underneath my dress and asking if he can touch me. Nearly begging to taste me.
He doesn’t remember that we had sex last night.
Or worse.
That he took my virginity.