Page 7 of Walk of Shame
Chapter Three
Christopher
I staredown at the gorgeous blonde I’d taken home the night of my brother’s engagement party in complete shock. One look at Ashley, lying there in her tiny, pale yellow bikini and my cock hardens. Just like it hardened the first second I laid eyes on her. I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t frighten people.
Even in my surprise, I can’t stop my gaze from traveling the length of her, snagging on her breasts. Literally the most fantastic breasts I’ve ever had the pleasure of biting. They’d been full, way more than a handful, and my mind fills with the image of her bouncing above me, riding my cock like she’d been born to it.
Should I be flattered or worried she’s followed me here? Obviously the sane answer is worried. It’s a bit much, and doesn’t quite jive with the way she slinked away at dawn without even leaving her number. Maybe she’s one of those crazy, split-personality girls?
But in a way, her following me here saves me some trouble. Despite Ashley’s lack of contact information, I’d been planning on getting her number from my future sister-in-law, Ruby, and calling her after I return from the medical conference I’m attending.
After a morning of lectures, we had the afternoon free, so I’d decided to wander down to the beach only find Ashley lying here, like a gift from the gods.
I can handle a little crazy.
I manage to pull my attention off her chest, and when I reach her shocked face, I frown.
Why is she so surprised to see me?
She points, gesturing wildly before yelling, “What are you doing here?”
My frown deepens and I tilt my head at her. “What do you mean? You know why I’m here.”
“I most certainly do not.” She picks up a white cover-up and clutches it to her chest, although I don’t know why she’s bothered as I’ve seen, touched, and tasted every inch of her.
The sand shifts beneath my feet. She’s a fantastic actress. “Ashley, we talked about this.”
The confusion doesn’t clear from her expression. Instead she says in a slow voice, “Talked about what?”
I study her features, which are totally blank of understanding, and full of what can only be described as horror. Like I’m the last person on this earth she wants to see. This is not the face of a woman that followed me here to continue our hookup.
Realization dawns on me. “You don’t remember?”
Her gaze slides away and her cheeks turn pink. “Not anything that explains what you’re doing here.”
I’d known she’d been drunk. Hell I’d been drunk too. We’d both had too much to drink, but it never occurred to me she’d forget. I’d had plenty of alcohol but I still remembered every second of being with her—from the moment I’d laid eyes on her at my middle brother’s engagement party, to the last time I’d fucked her before falling into an exhausted heap.
Okay, well, this is awkward. And here I thought that kind of sex was impossible to forget. I clear my throat. “What do you remember?”
Her skin flushes on top of a flush and she shrugs. “I remember some stuff.”
“Do you remember the closet?”
She nods.
Thank god, I’d done some of my best work in that closet. I hate to think I’d brought her to a screaming orgasm with my tongue, before burying myself inside her and pounding into her until we’d both had a shuddering climax, only for her to forget.
I raise a brow. “Do you remember dancing?”
“Kind of.”
There’d been quite a few shots between the closet and dancing.
“Do you remember leaving with me?”
A small shake of her head. “Not really.”
On the walk to my apartment is where we’d spent the most time talking. Although even then we’d been insatiable. I shove my hands deeper into my pants. “So you don’t remember sitting on the bench a couple blocks from my house, me pointing to the billboard and talking about the medical conference I was attending?”