I giggle softly to myself when the cab driver asks me where I’m going. Where am I going? My face feels tingly. I tell him to hold on for a second and pull my phone out of my purse.
It takes me a few tries and a few more giggles to punch in the right number.
Paige answers on the first ring. “Did you have a good time?”
I snort in a very unladylike fashion and hiccup. “I had a FABULOUS time! My mother’s never had an orgasm!”
I laugh so hard that my stomach hurts.
“Oh, my God. You’re drunk! Why am I missing this?” Paige asks.
“I feel funny. Everything is funny. I want to have sex with Dallas right now.”
The cab driver stares at me through the rearview mirror and I wave to him.
“Get your ass to his house PRONTO! Now is your chance. Remember what Kennedy said: liquid courage.”
Right. Liquid courage. I have that in spaces. Or spades. Whatever.
Blowing Paige a few kisses through the phone, I hang up and toss the phone in my clutch.
“Take me to Dallas’s house!” I tell the driver excitedly.
He throws his arm over the back of the seat and turns around. “Where does Dallas live?”
I don’t know. Where DOES Dallas live?
Pulling my purse onto my lap, I dig my phone out again and call him.
“What are you doing calling me? I thought you had a wedding to go to?” Dallas answers. I can hear his smile through the phone and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Or maybe that’s the bourbon talking.
“Where do you live?”
He laughs. “Um, on Highland Street, why?”
“Driver, take me to Highland Street!”
The cab driver shakes his head and pulls the car away from the curb.
“Lorelei, are you drunk dialing me?” Dallas asks in shock.
“I can neither confirm nor deny this statement, Your Honor,” I tell him, dissolving into another fit of giggles. “My mother bought an orgasm. And my father’s never given her a pole dance.”
Dallas barks out a laugh. “Wow. That must have been some wedding. How long before you get here?”
“I don’t know. But make sure you’re not wearing any pants.”
I end the call and let my head flop to the back of the seat.
I must have dozed off because a few seconds later, I hear Dallas’s voice.
“It’s okay; I’ve got her. Keep the change.”
The back door opens and I sit up as Dallas leans into the car and pulls me out. I lose my footing on the curb when I step out and he wraps both of his arms around me and pulls me against him. He smells so good and he’s so warm. I snuggle my face into his chest and take a deep breath.
He slams the door closed and the cab takes off. “Did you just sniff me?”
I look up at his face and see that he’s smiling. “You smell yummy.”
He laughs, walking me up the sidewalk, and leads me through his front door without saying another word. In my alcohol-addled brain, I wonder if I’ve made him angry for showing up drunk and uninvited. And sniffing him.
He grabs my purse from my hand and tosses it onto the couch before turning to look at me. His eyes take me in from head to toe and he whistles.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful. That dress . . . fuck me, that dress,” he says.
My heart soars and my body heats up at his words.
“Why are you still wearing pants?” I whisper, walking up to him and sliding my hands up his chest.
He laughs, skimming the tips of his fingers over my cleavage. Goose bumps break out on my skin and I close my eyes.
I quickly realize that was not a wise move. The room starts to spin and my stomach churns. I feel his lips on my neck and I quickly open my eyes, forcing the nausea back down.
He kisses his way up the side of my neck and the tip of his tongue traces a small circle right behind my ear. I’m torn between the need I feel for him and the need to throw up. I’m not really sure right now which one is going to win.
Dallas pulls his face away from the side of my neck and stares into my eyes. I try really hard to focus on him, but I’m not sure which “him” to look at. Right now I see three.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is not to strip you naked right now?” he whispers.
“The dress has a zipper on the side—it’s not that hard,” I tell him.
He chuckles and cups my face in his hands. “I’d prefer it if you were a little more coherent the first time I take you.”
I want to tell him that’s the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me. I want to tell him that I’ve never ached for anyone as much as I do him. I want to tell him so many things and they’re all swirling around in my brain begging to be let out.
But instead, I just pat my hand against his cheek.
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
He takes a step back and points down the hall. I cover my mouth and make a mad dash for the bathroom.
Whoever thought getting drunk was a good idea should be shot.
CHAPTER 16