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The bartender poured another two fingers of Scotch and walked away. Rolling the tumbler between his fingers, he stared intently into the bottom of the glass before throwing his head back and downing the shot. Liquid fire burned his throat and warmed his insides as it made its way into his bloodstream. He signaled the bartender for another.
Sitting in the middle of the crowded bar, he was dealing with his feelings the only way he knew how —slinging back Blue Label until his mind was so foggy that he couldn’t focus on the thoughts plaguing him. His best friend had left an hour ago. He’d promised he was okay, that he’d head home soon, but he couldn’t make himself move. The stool was his lifeline, the drink his salvation.
He waved the bartender over for another. One more pour, one more shot.
“Might want to slow it down a bit,” came a sugary sweet voice to his right.
He swiveled on the stool. Trouble had just walked in.
She stood next to him in ridiculously high heels, short shorts and a loose tank top. Try as he might, the alcohol made it hard to pretend, and he couldn’t help but admire the curve of her ass and the lift of her tits. She waited patiently as his greedy eyes traveled her body.
As she slid onto the stool next to him, her eyes widened with fake innocence as her hand drifted into his lap. “Rough night?” she asked.
“You could say that.” The alcohol muddled his brain, sending his judgment right out the fucking window. Her tongue darted out, trailing across her bottom lip and drawing his attention to her full, pouty mouth. At the same time, she slowly walked her fingertips up his thigh, closer to where he shouldn’t want her. He reached down, stilling her hand in his lap and making sure she felt exactly how she was affecting him. There was no reason to keep up his morals anymore. Fuck it.
Rolling out of bed the next morning, he pried himself away from the body wrapped around him and planted his feet on the floor. His head was spinning, his stomach roiling. He wasn’t a stranger to one-night stands, but he usually had a bit more memory of what had happened the night before. He was going to have to lay off the Johnny Walker.
He ran a hand through his hair and sat back in the bed. He’d give himself a minute to wake up and then hightail it out of there. A mass of blonde hair was spread out on the pillow next to him, but he was focused on the whale tale of her thong peaking out from beneath the sheets. Damn.
He reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time when the warm body next to him rolled up onto his chest.
“Mmm, good morning professor.”
*Teaser is unedited and subject to change*
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