Page 30 of Drive Me Wild
I place two fingers on her inner wrist. “You’re alive and well, baby.”
“I may be alive, but I am definitely not well,” she grumbles. “I hope you know there’s no chance of me licking you like a lollipop this morning.”
“What about this afternoon?” I trail my fingers up and down her back. “I’m a patient man.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
The noise she makes is half-grunt, half-groan. “The mere thought of a dick is making me nauseous, so no.”
Well, at least she won’t be sleeping with anyone else, either. Not that I have any claim over her or anything. I’m the one who told her she should be sowing her wild oats and sleeping around now that she’s single. I wish there was a Brita filter for brains to stop all the stupid shit from coming out of my mouth.
“You were pretty drunk last night, Miss Bancroft,” I tease softly. “What, the twinkling lights of Monaco got to that pretty little head of yours?”
She makes some sort of grumbling noise. “The damn scavenger hunt.”
Ahhh.That explains the purple lighter and drink umbrella at least. “What scavenger hunt?”
Josie lifts her head and stares at me. “We play every year, Walker. You just usually get wasted and leave with some wannabe influencer forty minutes into the party.”
Ouch. She’s not wrong, though. Last year I slept with some bat-shit crazy girl Blake had fucked way back when, then passed out in Leo DiCaprio’s yacht afterward. You know I’m hammered when I double-dip into Blake’s dirty laundry.
“Who plays?”
“The teams are different every year, but it’s usually people from marketing, operations, engineering, and a few finance guys.”
How have I never heard of this scavenger hunt? Why aren’t the drivers invited to play? Blake’s not exactly Mr. Party People, but I’m the dictionary definition of a good time. Which probably explains why Josie wanted to sleep with me last night.
“The list is on my phone if you want to see what else we had to find,” she tells me, shutting her eyes. “My passcode’s one-one-two-one.”
“Your birthday? Seriously?” I scoff. “You don’t even like your birthday!”
“It’s easy to remember.”
“It’s also easy to hack, princess.”
She reopens one of her eyes to glare at me. “Unlike you, I don’t keep nudes on my phone. If someone wants to hack me, all they’ll find is food porn, endless playlists, and a grocery list.”
We’ll see about that. I grab her phone from the bedside table, where it’s been charging all night.You’re welcome. My eyes zero in on the text messages on the screen. It’s not snooping since these just so happen to be here.
Andrew Caffrey
Saw you on TV! It was a great race.
Wes (the best coworker ever)
Can we boycott champagne for the rest of the season? There’s a man in my bed and I can’t remember his name…
The text from Wes makes sense, but the text from Andrew, not so much. Why is he still texting her like they’re friends or some shit?
I try to ignore the heat prickling my skin as I read through the scavenger hunt list. Purple lighter. Two signed business cards.Are Josie and Andrew getting back together?Cocktail umbrella. Two different brands of beer caps.It’s none of my business if they are. It’s not like I know shit about relationships.One monogrammed flask.Fuck that. Yes, it is my business. I’m her friend.Photo licking the ice sculpture. Wine label from the nineties.But if we’re just friends, then why does the thought of her getting back together with her ex make me so mad? If we’re just friends, then why can’t I stop thinking about her day and night?Selfie with a celebrity holding up something that says McAllister. Three different colored stirrer sticks.Don’t overthink, Theo.Mini dry shampoo. Baby blue scrunchie.
“Some of these are hard,” I note when I’ve finished reading the items.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles. “Losers have to chug a bottle of Dom.”
I toss Josie her phone, but she just watches it land by her hand, making no move to grab it. Her eyelids flutter, trying to stay open and fight off the extra hour or two of sleep her body wants. It’s clear she’s too tired for much of a conversation, but she’s in my bed and I love pillow talk—it’s my second favorite kind of conversation after dirty talk. Curling up on my side, I tuck my knees up so they’re grazing hers.
“I’m sorry you lost, princess.”
