The Third Wheel

Twenty ~ The Morning After

Scott

Shit. 

I stared wide eyed at the dark haired beauty tucked into my side. Her long lashes were still against her cheek, one hand beneath the pillow and the other on my chest. I swallowed noisily. 

I’d done something I’d never done before. I’d slept with a girl. Not as in sex, but just next to.

So it wasn’t a mind-blowing dream, I thought.

My heartbeat quickened as flashes from last night flit through my mind. The heat and passion. Her legs around my waist. Her lips on mine. Miss Goody-Two-Shoes had another side to her. This sexy, forward vixen had reawakened something in me. She’d stirred my curiosity. 

The girl in question mumbled in her sleep, her hand sliding further up my bare chest. I stopped breathing. God she was intoxicating. My leg was nestled between her thighs. I didn’t want to move, in case I woke her. This was a feeling I never wanted to lose.

Too late.

Ariella groaned and stretched, her chest barely covered with that hot lace bra. I watched as her eyelids fluttered, lazily opening. They were dazed and deliciously green. I felt like some 18th century poet just looking at her. 

“What’re you doin’ here Casanova?” She said sleepily. “This is my bed…”

Her eyes drifted shut again, her breathing regulating.

A grin stretched across my lips. She was like a kitten. I gently stroked the thick mahogany strands from her forehead, trailing a finger ever so softly across her jawline and to her chin. God I wanted to kiss those lips of hers.

The temptation was too much to resist. I was never one to turn away from a gorgeous woman.

My lips tingled as they brushed against hers, the softest of kisses I’d ever bestowed.

I quickly jerked back, eyes wide with a dawning realisation.

I was Scott Parker. I didn’t do soft kisses and cuddles. That was nice guy stuff. I was far from a nice guy. I humped and dumped.

“You’ve lost your edge.” I snarled to myself. I needed to get back in the game. This was enough sentimental highschool crap. She was still a teenager, young and inexperienced.

She doesn't kiss like an amateur, I thought huskily. And she’s far more mature than any other dumb blonde you’ve ever interacted with. She’s actually intelligent.

I roughly shoved the thought from my mind. She was the kind of girl who dated a nice boy. I was the player. We were worlds apart. What had I even been thinking? Letting myself get carried away so much with her. What if she got the wrong impression and wanted more?

My heart skipped a beat. Stop with this romantic cliched shit!

I carefully slipped Ariella’s hand off my chest, desperate not to wake her. I managed to climb out of the bed and back away without her rousing. Judging from the amount of alcohol she’d consumed the previous night, she wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

She murmured in her sleep and rolled over, sighing slightly.

Shower. I’d shower and dress and then decided how to get rid of her. With any luck, she wouldn't remember what we’d done and I could say I’d let her sleep in my bed because she was so drunk. Yes, that’s what I’d do. 

Then I’d go to the nearest bar and find the loosest girl I could to get rid of the stupid romantic notions I was having.

I glanced back at the sleeping red-haired beauty. I’d need more than one slut to get her kisses out of my mind.