The Secret Society

Chapter Two

An alarm sounded in the distance, startling Brixlee and whoever slept beside her awake. Most of the night was a blur for her after she got on the dance floor with Emmannuella. Brixlee remembered dancing until her feet felt sore, drinking as much as she could, and she certainly remembered kissing someone, but she didn't know who. In her mind, it was her friend with benefits, Shawn, but she couldn't be too sure with all the alcohol that had been running through her system.

She sighed with a groan, sliding her hand to her head. "Oh, God."

The alarm grew louder, coming from the side table next to her. The mystery man behind her leaned over, pushing into her as he reached for his phone and shut off the alarm. He groaned as well, tossing his phone at the end of the bed, and landing on her feet.

"Morning," his groggy voice echoed in her ears. Her eyes shot open—this certainly wasn't Shawn—and she turned her head with a yelp.

"Jesus Christ," she exclaimed and sat upright, holding the covers to her chest.

"I prefer Cole, actually." His groggy voice wavered, then chuckled.

She scoffed, and adjusted the sheets around her. "Yeah, I know that."

Brixlee had been promiscuous before, leading to her on-again, off-again fling with Shawn. She now realized Shawn wasn't out last night with Cole and his friends. Waking up beside Cole wasn't in any of her plans, even though she wanted to do this for some time, she couldn't betray Vera like this.

She groaned, feeling the blood rush to her head as she stood, still holding the sheets to her body.

"Where're you going?" Cole asked, taking her hand.

"This never happened."

"For you, maybe," he teased, the outline of his manhood poking out of the covers. She gave his heavily tattooed body a once over and let out a shuddered breath; he surely was attractive and it was hard for her to feel guilty at the moment. "You don't have to cover up; those tits were in my mouth last night."

She groaned again and slid her underwear on, searching for her top, unable to spot it in the cluster of clothes they tore off each other last night—something she vaguely had any remembrance of.

A dark blue t-shirt was folded at the top of the pile of clothes on his nightstand, and Brixlee took the shirt, sliding it over her head so she could drop the sheet. "I'm borrowing this," she said, sliding her feet into her pants.

Cole tucked his arm under his head to get a better view of her. "Does that mean we can do this again?"

"No, this never happened," she repeated.

He rubbed at one of his eyes. "Three times doesn't seem like something I can easily forget."

She groaned again, putting a hand to her head. "God, I drank too much."

He laughed sleepily. "Was I that unmemorable?"

"I was just too wasted to notice what was going on," she said, fixing her feet into her high heels.

"You were dancing with Emmanuella like no one was watching, but you definitely had my attention. The way you swung those hips, and the feeling of your ass against my—" Cole started, grinning.

"Again, this never happened," she urged, interrupting him.

"And why not?"

Heavy breathing turned back to snoring and she took notice of someone sleeping in the bed perpendicular to them. Her heart started beating rapidly, as the blond was also shirtless, and glimpses of them leaving the nightclub together flashed through her mind. Brixlee was one to experiment, but never one to do something this crazy.