Much to my chagrin, Kieran doesn’t f**k me that night.
“I’m not even drunk anymore,” I whine as he hands me a large, black tee-shirt to sleep in. “You fed me a crap-ton of carbs and made me drink a gallon of water, remember?”
He grins. “That was to keep you from being hung-over tomorrow, not to sober you up tonight. You’re too far gone.”
If I’m being honest, I already knew we weren’t going to have s*x tonight. He didn’t have that fire in his eyes—not after seeing me down the champagne in the Range Rover.
Did I do it intentionally? Was I testing him? Did I feel like I needed to lower my inhibitions to be with him?
Whatever the reason, he passed the test.
I decide to give it one final attempt, though, for good measure. “I won’t look this hot tomorrow morning.”
He laughs out loud, then
