My inebriated state makes me even hornier than I was last night, and I try to tell Dean that when we reach the bedroom, but, unfortunately, he acts as a gentleman and informs me that I’m too drunk for him to take advantage of.
“It was only three drinks,” I whine as he changes from his swim trunks to his sweatpants and I eye his unfairly giant d**k with desire. “I’m barely tipsy.”
But he just gives me a sarcastic look and crawls into bed.
Despite my insistence that I’m not drunk, I am, and fall asleep without even changing out of my bikini.
Tonight’s dream is another variation of the same image of my mother. This time, though, I don’t see Aidan or the white wolf. Instead, I see tall, dark shadows, reaching up at her from far below her, as if trying to drag her down with them. She’s run
