Page 133 of Chaos

Theo scoffs. “I didn’t bet anything.”

“I said, ‘Twenty bucks says they hook up at the wedding.’ You said, ‘I’ll take that bet.’”

“I wasn’t beingserious.”

Nevertheless, Adam crooks his fingers insistently, hissing when Yasmin slaps them away. “Twenty bucks,” she winks at me, “says Lottie bites your hand off if you reach for your wallet.”

I grin with all my teeth. “I’ll take that bet.”

A gentle push urges me forward, laughter brushing the top of my head. “Careful, boys. She’s vicious this morning.”

I crane my neck back to peer up at him. “Vicious, unsatisfied. Potato, po-tah-toh.”

“See.” Finn slaps my ass. “Vicious.”

Throwing an elbow back into his ribs, I slip out of his reach and make a beeline for the very reason we emerged from his room in the first place—coffee. And food. An inquisition was not on the list, but something tells me I’m going to get that anyway.

I barely graze the coffee pot before Yasmin is at my side, dangling a mug from her fingertips as she bumps her hip against mine. “Do I get details?”

Snagging the mug, I fill it to the brim. “Nope.”

“Not even one?” Yas sighs, slumping forward on the countertop, big eyes all fucking forlorn. “I thought we were friends.”

“He got drunk and said a bunch of stuff, and we kissed. Happy?”

Her face saysno. “You are terrible at girl talk, you know that?”

I do know that. How could I be any good at it when I’ve never really done it?

Yas straightens and sidles even closer. “What kind of stuff, Lottie?”

An arm slipping around my waist saves me from answering, the fingers splayed just below my belly button making me shiver. “I believe I called her beautiful a hundred times, and then I passed out.” Chin dropping to my shoulder, Finn clucks his tongue at his friend. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Beautiful.” Adam scoffs from across the kitchen. “You need to work on your game.”

“Hm.” The arm banded around my middle rises, settling beneath the curve of my breasts as Finn nuzzles the crook of my neck, lips pressed right to the incredibly conspicuous mark I spent at least thirty minutes reaming him out about. “Who’s bed did she spend the night in, Adam?”

“We’ll see whose she’s in tonight.”

I blink at Yasmin. “Is this supposed to be attractive?”

“I think they’re asserting their dominance.”

“So they’re pissing on me,” I drawl, pinching the back of the hand drifting dangerously close to voyeuristic territory until the owner hisses and retreats. “How lovely.”

As the guys and Yasmin snicker, I drain my drink and drop my mug in the sink, evading Finn’s incessant grabby hands with the intention of disappearing back upstairs—to my own room this time, because somehow, I spent an entire morning in Finn’s. In his bed.

In a man’s bed,notfucking—what a novelty. And not really talking either. Just… existing. Nursing his hangover.Cuddling.

And now we’re acting likethisin front of his friends, his friends whoknow, and it’s all extremely unsettling. Or at leastit should be unsettling, but I’m having trouble actually feeling unsettled, which is all the more alarming so I’m thinking some alone time is on the cards.

I’mthinking.

Finn, as it turns out, does not share that train of thought.

When his arm slinks around me once again, I sigh. He’s a tactile man, I knew that already. The very opposite of me, though I can’t say I’ve exactly been fending off his advances. The slow, tender strokes of my hair, the brushes of his knuckles across my cheeks, the tracing of my freckles, my tattoos, the curves and angles of my body… yeah, I’m not objecting to any of those, am I?

I do, however, object to being hoisted into the air and thrown over a broad shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes.

---