Read Lick by Kylie Scott Free Online

Page 1

  Author: Kylie Scott CHAPTER ONE

I woke upwardly on the bathroom floor. Everything hurt. My mouth felt like garbage and tasted worse. What the hell had happened last nighttime? The last thing I remembered was the countdown to midnight and the thrill of turning twenty-one, legal at last. I'd been dancing with Lauren and talking to some guy. Then Bang!

Tequila.

A whole line of shot spectacles with lemon and salt on the side.

Everything I'd heard about Vegas was true. Bad things happened here, terrible things. I just wanted to clamber into a ball and die. Sweetness baby Jesus, what had I been thinking to drink so much? I groaned and fifty-fifty that fabricated my head pound. This pain had not been part of the program.

"Yous okay?" a voice enquired, male person, deep, and nice. Actually nice. A shiver went through me despite my pain. My poor broken body stirred in the strangest of places.

"Are you going to be sick over again?" he asked.

Oh, no.

I opened my eyes and sat upwards, pushing my greasy blonde hair aside. His blurry face loomed closer. I slapped a hand over my mouth considering my breath had to be hideous.

"Hullo," I mumbled.

Slowly, he swam into focus. He was built and beautiful and strangely familiar. Impossible. I'd never met anyone like him.

He looked to be in his mid-to-tardily twenties—a man, non a male child. He had long, dark hair falling by his shoulders and sideburns. His optics were the darkest blue. They couldn't be real. Frankly, those eyes were overkill. I'd have swooned perfectly fine without them. Even with the tired red tinge they were a affair of dazzler. Tattoos covered the entirety of one arm and one-half his bare chest. A black bird had been inked into the side of his cervix, the tip of its wing reaching up backside his ear. I still had on the pretty, dirty white dress Lauren had talked me into. Information technology had been a daring choice for me on account of the way it barely contained my affluence of boobage. But this beautiful man hands had me beat for skin on prove. He wore only a pair of jeans, some scuffed black boots, a couple of small silvery earrings, and a loose white cast on his forearm.

Those jeans … he wore them well. They sat invitingly low on his hips and fit in all the right ways. Even my monster hangover couldn't detract from the view.

"Aspirin?" he asked.

And I was ogling him. My gaze darted to his face and he gave me a sly, knowing smiling. Wonderful. "Yes. Please. "

He grabbed a battered black leather jacket off the floor, the one I'd patently been using equally a pillow. Thank God I hadn't puked on information technology. Conspicuously, this beautiful one-half naked man had seen me in all my celebrity, hurling multiple times. I could accept drowned in the shame.

One by one he emptied the contents of his pockets out onto the cold white tiles. A credit bill of fare, guitar picks, a phone and a string of condoms. The condoms gave me intermission but I was soon distracted by what emerged adjacent. A multitude of paper scraps tumbled out onto the floor. All had names and numbers scrawled across them. This guy was Mr Popularity. Hey, I could definitely see why. But what on world was he doing here with me?

Finally, he produced a small bottle of pain-killers. Sweetness relief. I loved him, whoever he was and whatsoever he'd seen.

"You demand water," he said, and got decorated filling a glass from the sink behind him.

The bath was tiny. We both barely fit. Given Lauren's and my coin situation, the hotel had been the best nosotros could afford. She'd been determined to celebrate my birthday in style. My goal had been a scrap unlike. Despite the presence of my hot new friend, I was pretty certain I'd failed. The pertinent parts of my beefcake felt fine. I'd heard things hurt after the first couple of times. They sure as hell had after the offset. But my vagina might have been the only part of my body non giving me grief.

Withal, I took a quick peek down the front of my dress. The corner of a foil package could still be seen, tucked into the side of my bra. Because if it was sitting there, strapped to me, no mode would I be caught unprepared. The safe remained whole and hearty. How disappointing. Or maybe non. Finally plucking up the courage to go back on the horse, then to speak, and then non remembering information technology would take been horrible.

The homo handed me the glass of water and placed two pills into my mitt. He then sabbatum back on his haunches to lookout me. He had an intensity to him that I was in no condition to deal with.

"Cheers," I said, then swallowed the aspirin. Noisy rumbles rose from my abdomen. Nice, very ladylike.

"Are you certain you're okay?" he asked. His glorious mouth twitched into a grin every bit if we shared a private joke between us.

The joke being me.

All I could do was stare. Given my current condition, he was merely as well much. The hair, face, body, ink, all of information technology. Someone needed to invent a word superlative enough to draw him.

After a long moment information technology dawned on me that he expected an answer to his question. I nodded, still unwilling to unleash my morning breath, and gave him a grim grin. The best I could practice.

"Okay. That's good," he said.

He was certainly attentive. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve such kindness. If I'd picked upwardly the poor guy with promises of sexual practice and so proceeded to spend the night with my head in the toilet, by rights he should be a bit disgruntled. Perhaps he hoped I'd make adept on the offer this morning. It seemed the only plausible caption for why he'd linger.

Nether normal conditions, he was light years out of my league and (for the sake of my pride) worlds away from my blazon. I liked clean-cutting. Clean-cut was dainty. Bad boys were highly overrated. God knows, I'd watched plenty girls throw themselves at my brother over the years. He'd taken what they'd offered if it suited him, and so moved on. Bad boys weren't the stuff serious relationships were made of. Non that I'd been chasing forever last dark, just a positive sexual experience. Something non involving Tommy Byrnes existence mad at me for getting a smear of blood on the back seat of his parents' machine. God, what a horrible retention. The adjacent mean solar day the douche had dumped me for a girl on the track team one-half my size. He then added insult to injury past spreading rumors about me. I hadn't been fabricated bitter or twisted by this event at all.

What had happened last night? My caput remained a tangled, throbbing mess, the details hazy, incomplete.

"We should get something into you lot," he said. "You desire me to order some dry toast or something?"

"No. " The idea of food was non fun. Not even java appealed and coffee always appealed. I was one-half tempted to bank check myself for a pulse, merely in example. Instead, I pushed my hand through my crappy pilus, getting it out of my eyes. "No, I … ow!" Strands caught on something, tugging hard at my scalp. "Crap. "

"Hang on. " He reached out and advisedly disentangled my messy practise from whatever was causing the trouble. "There we go. "

"Thanks. " Something winked at me from my left hand, snagging my attention. A band, but not only whatever ring. An amazing ring, a stupendous one.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

Information technology couldn't be real. Information technology was so big it bordered on obscene. A stone that size would cost a fortune. I stared, bemused, turning my mitt to catch the calorie-free. The ring beneath was thick, solid, and the stone certain shone and sparkled like the real bargain.

As if.

"Ah, aye. About that …" he said, dark brows drawn downwards. He looked vaguely embarrassed by the ice rink on my finger. "If you still wanna change it for something smaller, that's okay with me. It is kinda big. I do get your betoken about that. "

I couldn't shake the feeling I knew him from somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't final nighttime or this morning or anything to practise with the ridiculous beautiful band on my finger.

"You bought me this?" I asked.

He nodded. "Last dark at Cartier. "

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"Cartier?" My voice dropped to a whisper. "Huh. "

For a long moment he just stared at me. "You don't remember?"

I really didn't desire to answer that. "What is that fifty-fifty? Two, three carats?"

"Five. "

"5? Wow. "

"What do you retrieve?" he asked, voice hardening just a little.

"Well … information technology's hazy. "

"No. " His frown increased until it owned his handsome face. "You accept got to be fucking kidding me. You seriously don't know?"

What to say? My mouth hung open, useless. There was a lot I didn't know. To my knowledge, however, Cartier didn't do costume jewelry. My head swam. Bad feelings unfurled within my stomach and bile burnt the dorsum of my throat. Worse even than before.

I was not puking in front end of this guy.

Not again.

He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. "I didn't realize yous'd had that much to drink. I hateful, I knew you lot'd had a fleck, but … shit. Seriously? Y'all don't remember us going on the gondolas at The Venetian?"

"Nosotros went on gondolas?"

"Fuck. Ah, how virtually when you bought me a burger? Exercise yous remember that?"

"Sorry. "

"Wait a minute," he said, watching me through narrowed eyes. "Y'all're only messing with me, aren't y'all?"

"I'yard so sad. "

He physically recoiled from me. "Let me get this straight, yous don't retrieve annihilation?"

"No," I said, swallowing hard. "What did we do last night?"

"Nosotros got fucking married," he growled.

This time, I didn't make it to the toilet.

*

I decided on divorce while I brushed my teeth, proficient what I would say to him as I done my pilus. But you couldn't rush these things. Different terminal nighttime when I'd apparently rushed into marriage. Rushing once again would be wrong, foolish. That, or I was a coward taking the world's longest shower. Odds were on the latter.

Holy, holy hell. What a mess. I couldn't even brainstorm to go my head wrapped around it. Married. Me. My lungs wouldn't piece of work. Panic waited right around the corner.

No style could my desire for this disaster to become away come up as a surprise to him. Puking on the floor had to take been a huge hint. I groaned and covered my confront with my hands at the retentiveness. His look of disgust would haunt me all my days.

Read Lick by Kylie Scott Free Online

Source: https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/kylie-scott/1783-lick.html

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