Chapter 15 - Andie
Chapter Fifteen - Andie
I grab my purse, making my way into the hotel, clinging to the arms of Matt and Dylan.
Luckily, the nausea has subsided, but my head still feels like I just got a lobotomy.
An intense pounding is clouding my thoughts with poor judgment calls, which turns out to be the consequences for my drinking.
Pressing the buttons on the elevator to go to my room, time passes agonizingly slow as we wait for it to hit our floor.
Even though Dylan and Matt have a hold of me, with Anna walking alongside us, all I can think about is Spencer.
The mystery man whose voice alone has my legs clenching together for some sort of relief.
Thoughts of how he felt against my body and of his hands as they touched me, even if it was only to steady my balance, give me that warm tingling sensation.
One touch from him had me weak at the knees.
Leaving me wondering what his hands would feel like as they explore my entire body.
No, no, no Andie you cannot be thinking about another man. You’re married. What is wrong with you?
But even with the thoughts that come rushing in through the drunken fog. I realize I’m not married. Not anymore. Cody is gone. Dead and no amount of alcohol will ever be strong enough to erase the fact that this is my new reality.
My shoes fling off and land wherever I manage to kick them as I come stumbling into the room. I throw my body right next to the purse I tossed haphazardly into the bed. Sinking into the comfort of the mattress, I hear Maddie approach my doorway.
“Andie sweetie . . . you good?” A thumbs-up is all I can muster for the movements at this time, but Maddie finds it an acceptable response.
“Okay then, we’ll just be in the other room if you need us. Oh, and don’t forget to message Mr. Spencer.” I give her another thumbs-up, followed by darkness and silence.
“Message me when you arrive safely.” His words course through my mind. He couldn’t be serious, right? Surely, he was just being nice. I go back and forth mentally debating if I actually want to, but eventually I decide to comply with his wish.
As I pull out my phone, staring at the screen, I’m lost on what I should write to him. It doesn’t help that I have to squint to focus on the keys. Before I know it, my drunken thoughts have me believing I’ve messaged him about arriving safely.
Instant regret washes over me, realizing it was stupid to text him.
He didn’t really mean it. What stranger actually wants someone to message him at two in the morning, only to be able to say I made it home safely?
Not a single stranger in the world, that’s who.
He was simply being polite—like when you ask someone if they need anything, but secretly you’re hoping they say no because you don’t want to add more to your to-do list. A common courtesy, that’s what that gesture was.
Curled up in bed with images of him swarm around me, making the idea of sleep feel nearly impossible. After what feels like hours of torture, my mind finally caves to the alcohol and exhaustion. I drift into a deep sleep with dreams that are devoured by the man from the club.
The mouthwatering, clean-cut, brown haired, blue-eyed man that had me swooning over him. His slight, unshaven stubble leaves a forbidden urge to see how it feels as it brushes against my skin when he goes down on me.
Slowly, my eyes trace their way along his defined jaw line, pausing on his chest that’s teasing me under his unbuttoned white dress shirt.
The light reflecting off him outlines his abs, leaving my hands itching to feel him.
I continue scanning down his body till my gaze lands on the belt buckle of his black slacks, and the overwhelming need to see what lies beneath the fabric of his pants runs through me.
As parts of the night flash before my eyes, my heart races when he pulls my body in close to his, intensifying each breath I take.
Lips parted, I pull them in between my teeth gently biting down as I hold back my desires.
The temperature of my body heats up with every inch closer that his mouth gets to mine.
Silencing my sound of lust, I bite harder hoping the noise doesn’t escape me.
A traitor to my thoughts, the small whimper of need manages to slip past my guards. Nervously standing there, I find myself completely absorbed by him and his every move. With the slow intentional press of his luscious, soft lips against mine, my eyes willingly close savoring the taste of him.
Losing all control of my body while I sink further into him, our kiss heats up with passion every time our lips part, only to join again from the need for more. As my hands trail down to find the buckle of his pants where I begin to unlatch it, letting him spring free for my pleasure.
A loud thump from the other room snaps me awake only to leave my heart racing and my lower region aching for more.
Maddie and her friends are still partying, but I remain perplexed as to why my mind was dreaming of the filthy things I want to do to Spencer.
My conscious thoughts continue to try processing the dream I just awoke from and what it could possibly mean but I unfortunately come up at a loss.
With the amount of drinks I ingested my brain was left on a processing level of stupidity as sleep takes over again.
Hours later, I wake up. Disorientation hits me at full force as I place one foot on the carpet in hopes of stopping the room from spinning. Once I’m able to focus I snatch the phone from the nightstand. Tapping the screen to see the time, the brightness has me squinting to focus on the numbers.
3:47 a.m. Shit, how long was I out? As I stare at the time, my phone unlocks from the Face ID, displaying a message I typed but never sent to a guy named Spencer. The alcohol is still very much in my system, alerting me that if I make any sudden movements the waves of nausea will return.
My tolerance clearly isn’t what it used to be. I can’t remember the last time I got this drunk, maybe college or my wedding party. Either way, drinking this much used to be way easier.
I should just delete his contact and pretend this whole night never happened, but my fingers move with their own determination. As the screen continues swimming in and out of focus, I stab at the buttons, trying to get back to the main menu, when suddenly—
Calling Spencer
Fuck, NO! Hang up, Hang up!
I scramble to find the end button, but the screen won’t cooperate and—
“Hello?” His deep, sexy voice fills the quiet room, making my mouth water despite my current panic.