THIRTY-ONE
LIV
When I woke up the next afternoon, it was to the sensation of something having crawled down my throat to die, and a hangover that made me wish for death.
Groaning, I rolled over onto my side and grasped for the glass of water on my nightstand.
Warin had put it there after he halfway carried me in the door, I vaguely recalled, while I’d been fighting to get out of my dress and into my PJs in the bathroom, singing one of the songs from the club at the top of my lungs.
And that’s when the rest of the night came back to me, in way too crystal clear high-definition.
I choked on the water as an involuntary whimper made it past my lips at the recollection of rubbing myself all over Warin. When the memory of biting his shoulder caught up with me, I crawled back underneath the
