Page 217 of By His Vow

Before I get a chance to respond, he ducks low and steals my lips in a filthy kiss, letting me taste myself on his tongue.

Fuck. It’s hot.

So fucking hot.

“Oh god,” I groan as I come to and fully experience the severity of my hangover.

This is not good.

I roll onto my side and snuggle into the softness of the blanket wrapped around me.

I want the couch to suck me in and never let me out.

But that’s beyond impossible.

I’m getting married today.

Married.

My stomach rolls and my mouth waters.

Oh my god, I’m going to be sick on my wedding day.

I’m on my feet and racing toward the bathroom before I’ve fully registered my thoughts. My knees hit the tiles and I vomit.

Once I’m confident I’m done, I sit back on the warm floor and wipe the back of my hand across my sweaty forehead.

Closing my eyes, I rest my head back and just breathe, wishing the hangover away with nothing but willpower alone.

Surprisingly, it does fuck all, and when I gingerly climb to my feet a few minutes later, the room spins much like it did last night.

I wash my hands and splash my face with water, but it does very little to make me feel better.

Needing to at least brush my teeth, I rip the door open and stumble toward the bedroom where all my stuff is.

My steps falter when my eyes land on the couch and a memory of Kingston slams into me with the force of an eighteen-wheeler.

“You come when I tell you that you can come.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, desire pooling between my thighs as I hear those words as clearly as if he just whispered them in my ear.

It was just a dream.

Shaking my head in an attempt to clear the vivid images, I continue forward.

“Jesus, Lor,” I mutter as her loud snore bounces off the walls the second I stumble into the bedroom.

She’s lying flat on her back, her curly hair like a halo around her head with her lips parted and the most unladylike sound erupting from her throat.

Sleeping on the couch was probably the right thing to do last night.

“Lori,” I hiss, unable to speak any louder due to the incessant pounding of my head. “Lori.”

When she doesn’t so much as stop snoring, I reach out and shake her.

“No, Mom. I’m not going to school today,” she mutters, making me giggle.

“Lori, you’re a grown-ass woman. You no longer go to school.”