Paige

PAIGE

What did I just do?

Well, I got drunk, well tipsy, and slept with my bosses, my dad's three best friends, and then I ran away like a damn scaredy cat. That's what I did.

God, the hurt looks on their faces when I refused their escort home…But there is no way I could sit here and unload it all with how attentive they are. With how closely they pay attention.

A new rush of warmth floods through me, remembering everything we did together. They outshone my wildest fantasies, and I'm pretty sure it's only the beginning. If I let it continue.

I squeeze my thighs together. I'm still full of their cum, dressed in their clothes and my things are packed in my briefcase.

Sighing, I curl my knees to my chest and lean against the backseat, staring out of the window as the lights flash by.

I can't believe my poor judgment. What's this going to mean tomorrow at the office?

How am I going to unpack everything we did tonight? I don't regret any of it. They didn't do anything I didn't want, that I didn't enjoy. So why do I feel a slow freakout coming on?

Because I cannot believe I did that.

More so, I can't believe all three of them treated me with such…reverence.

And then Henry, the things he said…How he remembers that night. I wasn't just a stupid eighteen-year-old, drunk and seducing him.

This time, I feel seduced—champagne, a pretty dress, and the continuous teasing I got from Jake through the evening. How quickly everything changed once he kissed me. Once I knew he'd brought me home not just for himself but for the three of them.

Like they'd all talked about it.

God, what does this mean?

My mind spins in dizzying circles until we're stopped in front of my apartment building. Liam opens the door for me before I can gather all of my stuff.

"Did you need help up, Miss?"

"No. No, thank you."

"Of course, Miss."

"Thank you for the ride, Liam."

He smiles wide, the man a handsome fifty. I leave him and climb to my apartment, muscles tired, body worn out, still a strange energy hums in my veins as I slip inside.

The kitchen lights are on, and Jackie pounces before I lock the door. "Where have you been? You said a dinner. You didn't say you'd be out until one in the morning."

When I turn around and he gets the full look at me, his brown eyes go wide. "Oh shitcakes and crapkabobs. What happened?"

I bite back a guilty smile.

Jackie holds up both hands. "Okay. Apparently, this is going to take a while, so girl talk will have to wait until you don't smell like sweat, booze and sex. And you need to look in on your son, who would not go to bed easily without you, I will let you know."

"He wasn't too bad, was he?" I hate myself for not being here to put him to bed, especially with what I was doing instead.

"No, he was actually a bit subdued for him."

That stops me. Paxton is never subdued. Not unless something's wrong. "Is he sick? You should have called me."

"Hey. Hey. No." Jackie grabs me by my shoulders as I turn to rush to my room and check on him. "He didn't have a fever when I put him to bed, so go clean up and come back out here, so I can feed you and hear about what mess you've gotten yourself into."

I hesitate, wobbly on my unsteady feet.

"Go on then. I'll reheat the chili I brought home and put in some fries. I have a feeling you're going to need it." Jackie walks me halfway through the living room before I bat off his grip and slink into the shower.

My face is clean when I look in the mirror. I scrubbed it back at the house, but my hair is still in its wild bun. It's going to take at least ten minutes to comb through the tangles. Yet, my skin is glowing. My eyes bright. My mouth plump and pink from so much more than kissing.

Shivering, I turn on the hot water and slide under the heat with a sigh.

God, it feels good.

I scrub myself, surprised by how sensitive I still am. Everywhere.

Even as my core throbs from how much I took tonight, I wish I had one of them in here with me, behind me, taking me as the hot water sprays against my chest.

I shake it off, dipping my head under the heat. Fantasies are no longer sensible. Not with my new reality. I can't afford to get carried away.

Huffing, I shut the shower off and get dry, wrapping my hair in a towel and padding out into my bedroom to get a pair of clean underwear. I slip the borrowed flannel back on and tiptoe to Paxton sleeping in the middle of our bed.

He's sound asleep, and I don't want to wake him. Barely glancing a kiss off the back of his head, I back out of the room and meet Jackie in our small kitchen.

He grabs my chin and lifts my face to examine me. "Dear God, your pupils are still blown wide. Was it really that good?"

I bite my lip again, a blush heating up my cheeks and ears.

"That's it. Sit your skanky little butt in that chair and spill everything." I do, telling him about the night at the dinner, the building tension, the first kiss with Jake, being caught unawares with the three of them, being played with by masters and fleeing, all between bites of chili, cheese and crispy fries.

The warmth filling my belly, making me sleepy and satisfied. How different would it have been had I stayed a little longer? Not that I could have spent the night.

Jackie sits back, arms folded against his chest. "You are a fucking minx, sweet cheeks. Do you know how long it's been since I had a good romp, let alone between two men? And here you are, going from zero to a hundred with your three bosses."

I flinch. "My dad's three best friends."

"Oh, dear Lord, and they're older and well-versed in this kind of thing, aren't they?" He raises a sarcastic eyebrow at me.

"I don't know. Probably." And the shame creeps in right on cue. Well, maybe a little bit late if I'm being honest with myself. "How am I supposed to even act tomorrow? Oops, I mean today."

"Well, like you usually do, I suppose. Especially if you don't want the entire place to know."

"I don't." Shit. I really was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It's like I'm eighteen all over again.

"And you ran away straight after—right? Literally, straight after?"

" Yes ," I groan.

"Then you need to have a reason ready for why, in case they ask. It doesn't have to be the entire reason, mind you. But you should have something prepared to say so you don't try to wing it and make a fool of yourself." Jackie snatches a couple of the fries left on my plate.

"Any more than I already have, you mean."

He shrugs. "If the shame fits, I guess. I don't think you're a fool, but we both know it's not my opinion that matters."

I groan again and sink down in my chair.

Laughing softly, he kicks the bottom of my seat. "It's yours, you git. Your opinion of yourself is what matters. And fuck everyone else who doesn't see you the way you do."

Finally, I smile at him.

"Good. Now, come here. You probably didn't get a lot of this tonight, and you look like you need it." Jackie stands and reels me into a solid hug. It is exactly what I need.

It's not like the guys weren't gentle with me, but I didn't stay long enough for a real cuddle, or hug any of them goodbye.

Shit. It's going to be a long night, turning over what I'll say to them in the morning.

Rubbing circles on my back, Jackie murmurs softly against my wet hair before giving me one last big squeeze. "Okay. Go get what rest you can."

Nodding, I squeeze his shoulders and slink back into my room. Crawling in behind Paxton, I cuddle his little body against mine and freeze. His back is super warm and a little damp. So is his hair as I push it back.

Pressing my palm to his forehead under his hair, he's hot. Burning up hot. He hadn't felt like this when I'd planted a kiss on him little more than an hour ago.

No. No, no, no.

I stumble my way back to the bathroom, where Jackie catches me with a wild look. "What is it?"

"I need the thermometer. Do we still have baby Tylenol?" I scatter too many things from the medicine cabinet as I grab the thermometer and wash it off before rushing back to Paxton.

He doesn't really wake up as I slide the end into his ear. The heartbeats I wait for it to beep at me take far too long.

What kind of mom am I? Leaving my baby home while he's getting sick. Getting my rocks off while he's home suffering without me. I'm the worst kind.

And when the temperature beeps, it reads 102.2.

I'm the absolute worst mother in the world.