This is Reckless (Checkmate Duet 3)

C: Because that would mean fate is on my side and that bitch is NEVER ON MY FUCKING SIDE.

K: Ok, calm down!!! Just breathe. Let’s talk this out…

Before I can respond, a loud knock at the bathroom door makes me nearly piss myself. “Court? Are you almost done?”

His voice doesn’t give anything anyway. I don’t know what to do or say, so I just swallow and nod.

Then I remember he can’t see me.

“Sure, just a minute!” I shout back, trying to take deep breaths.

C: OMG he just knocked on the door. He knows I’m in here.

K: Well, who else would be in there, Court? You live together.

I roll my eyes at her obvious statement. Fuck. What am I going to do?

C: I’ll text you later. If you don’t hear from me, I probably died from embarrassment. Promise me you won’t let anyone look in the top drawer of my nightstand when they come to clean my room out.

K: You’ll be fine!!

I shake my head because I’m not so sure I will be.

I open the door, and when I see Drew standing against the wall with his arms crossed, I have a mini heart attack. He’s been waiting for me.

“Finally,” he says, pushing off the wall and walking toward me. “I was about to piss in the kitchen sink.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, getting out of his way so he can walk into the bathroom. He shuts it without saying another word, and I’m left wondering what the hell?

Walking to my bedroom, I tighten my grip on my towel and start to overanalyze everything that happened last night. If I hadn’t woken up in his bed, I would’ve sworn it was a dream. A very detailed, sexy, hot type of dream…

But I did wake up in his bed—naked and hungover. I know we both probably drank too much, but it’s not like it was the first time. We’ve hung out plenty of times, watched movies together on the couch, cooked and ate together, went out to the bars and came home together—but never ever has that lead to ending up in the same bed together.

After getting dressed and combing through my hair, I decide I’m just going to walk out there and wait for him to bring it up. If I act all weird, he’ll sense it and then everything will be awkward.

As I walk down the hallway, slower than normal, I hear him banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. It echoes in my head, and that’s when I realize I’m still feeling the effects of last night’s tequila shots. I’m not sure how he’s standing after all he drank, let alone, in the kitchen cooking. I round the corner and see him standing by the oven, shirtless—go figure—and cracking eggs into a pan on the stovetop. My eyes widen as I study his back and notice the claw marks across his broad shoulders. It all started in this kitchen…

Oh my God.

Looking down at my nails, I realize they’re scratched down. Taking even a better look at my wrists, I notice the red marks the handcuffs left behind. Swallowing, I pull my long sleeves down and cover them up. If I hadn’t come out for a drink this morning before hopping in the shower, our clothes would still be all over the floor in here.

“Making breakfast?” I ask, trying to think of the last time Drew made eggs. He’s normally a fruit and protein shake kind of breakfast guy.

“Yeah, I figured after last night, we could use some real food in our systems.” He looks over his shoulder and flashes me a smile. I’m confused as hell by his demeanor. Mostly because he’s acting as if nothing happened at all.

“After last night?” I inquire, wondering if he’ll actually be the first one to say it. I lean against the other wall, making sure to keep just enough distance between us.

“Yeah, after all those drinks and shots, I think our stomachs could use some real food.” He turns the heat down on the stove and covers the pan. “Especially since I can’t remember most of it.”

I gulp.

“What?” I ask, not meaning to say the word aloud, but it just came out.

He turns and faces me, leaning up against the counter. “I mean, I remember the wedding of course, but once the binge drinking started, things get a little fuzzy.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, me too,” I spit out, but it doesn’t sound convincing at all. I shuffle to the fridge and open the door.

“We took a cab home, right?” I hear him ask.

“Uh, yeah. We did.” I grab the jug of orange juice and shut the door.

“Let me know if I owe you half for it.” He shuffles around some more. “I mean, unless I’m the one that paid for it.” He chuckles, and I want to sink to the floor and become invisible.