So Wrong It's Good: A Forbidden Romance

“Fuck,” he said in a slightly slurred voice. He braced a hand on the wall beside him, made a soft groan, and straightened after a second. He turned and went to grab his keys from the lock, but continued to curse, as he clearly couldn’t get them disengaged.

She was tempted to go down and help him, but when she took a step toward the staircase he finally got his keys out and shut the door with an audible slam. He didn’t move for a second as he rested his head on the door, but then turned and went into the kitchen. She should have helped him, made sure he was okay, but she felt frozen in place.

The sound of the faucet turning off and on, of a glass being set on the tile counter softly, and then of him groaning again and saying something under his breath, filtered up to where she stood.

When the kitchen light turned off, she made her way away from the banister and toward her room just in time to hear Reese climbing the stairs. Lake should have gone in her room and shut the door, but here she was, watching him from the shadows like some kind of creep.

She told herself she was just making sure he was okay. She didn’t want to see him this drunk, didn’t want to see this vulnerable side of him, which, to be honest, was a first.

She gripped the doorframe as she watched him hold on to the banister. For a second he stood there, not moving, at the top of the stairs. Then, surprising her, she watched as he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

Even in the darkened hallway, from where she stood, she could see the sight of his chest, could see the definition, the muscles, the dips and hollows of all that toned, hard male flesh.

He shook his head, rubbed his jaw, then started moving toward her, where his bedroom was located right next to hers. She swore her heart beat so loud he had to have heard it, and just when she moved back into her room the sound of him stopping, his boots making a slight scraping nose on the hardwood floor, had her freezing as well.

“Lake?” He said her name in a deep voice, slightly slurred.

The smell of his expensive cologne and the sight of him reminded her all too well of what she really wanted ... all of him. As if her body knew what was right before her, what she really wanted, desire like a freight train slammed into her, far fiercer than any other time.

“Yes,” she said softly, her voice sounding breathless.

He stared at her for a moment, but the shadows were wrapped around him even more now, slightly concealing his face. “You should be in bed. It’s late,” he said, and leaned forward, braced his hand on her doorframe, and continued to look at her.

Lake should have moved back, but she felt his body heat, and these little goosebumps popped out along her skin, making her want to stay right here, right in front of him.

“I’m sorry you have to see me piss ass drunk.”

The smell of the whiskey lacing his breath didn’t turn her off.

In fact, it made her even more aroused.

Lake swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in her throat.

It was like they were in a standoff, neither moving nor speaking, but their gazes locked on the other’s. Her lips were dry, and her heart thundered behind her ribs. “It’s okay, Reese.” Even her voice was laced with the arousal that beat through her veins. “I know life has been hard, and letting loose on occasion seems like the natural thing to do.”

God, why was she still talking? She stared into his face, feeling herself fall deeper into the web of arousal that refused to let her go.

What she wouldn’t give to have Reese feel it, too, to have him just pull her into his chest, hold her close, and refuse to let her go.

“Drinking isn’t the answer to solving someone’s problems.”

She knew that, but surely if she was going through something like he was she’d want to drink as well, at least to numb the pain.

“But I’m not upset about Brittany or the divorce, and that’s not why I got wasted tonight,” he said a little more sure this time, his voice a little less slurred.

He wasn’t?

“It’s not about Brittany, not about the divorce?”

He shook his head slowly. “I feel free now, if that even makes any fucking sense.”

She nodded. “It does.”

“I thought I wanted more with her, but after it was all said and done I realized I didn’t.” He breathed out slowly, and the scent of whiskey filled her head, and could have made her drunk from the fumes alone. “But when I signed those divorce papers and things were settled, I understood that if I had tried and stayed longer, tried to make it work, I would have been pretty damn lonely.”