Lessons In Losing It (Study Abroad Book 4) by Jessica Peterson

Author:Jessica Peterson [Peterson, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peterson Paperbacks
Published: 2017-06-01T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Rachel

The Next Morning

I wake up slowly. I’m on my belly. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that I’m super warm and super comfy. This bed is heavenly. It’s soft and it smells clean and somehow so very cozy—flannel sheets, maybe? I burrow further underneath the duvet, luxuriating in the happy sensation of it all. What a delicious change from the cruddy mattress and scratchy sheets back at my dorm room.

Somewhere in the background, a door closes, quietly; I hear a voice murmuring.

A male voice.

Fred’s voice.

My stomach flips, jolting me fully awake. My eyes fly open.

Pale streamers of morning light unfurl across a tidy bedroom. I’m in a massive bed dressed in impossibly gorgeous, impossibly spotless white linens.

I turn over and sit up against the fluffy pillow. I suck a breath through my teeth at the unpleasant tightness of the skin on my back.

Rug burn. From the crazy animal sex we had on the floor last night.

Dear God.

I hold up the blankets and glance down at myself. I’m in a man’s shirt—it’s huge, more like a dress on me—that has a giant purple number seven across the front. Fred’s number.

I’m not wearing anything underneath the shirt. My vagina clenches, tingling with arousal. I reach down and touch myself.

I’m dripping wet. And sore.

I’ve been awake for, oh, twelve seconds, and already I’m so turned on I can barely stand it.

What the hell did we do to ourselves last night?

We were supposed to take it slow. And we ended up fucking on the floor of Fred’s living room.

I hold my forehead in my hand, even as I fight back a smile.

We fucked on the living room floor.

Hell. Yes.

Fred’s voice gets a little louder. It’s still a murmur, like he’s trying to be quiet, but I can hear him nonetheless.

He’s speaking German, that much I can tell. He uses the word Mama.

How cute. He’s talking to his mom.

I hear him laugh. I can’t understand what he’s saying, obviously, but from his tone I can tell he’s enjoying the conversation.

My heart twists. That must be nice, having a fun conversation with your mom. I wouldn’t know. All my mom talks about during our weekly calls is how’s your GPA looking? and when are you going to sign up to take the MCAT study course? Time is running out…

Needless to say, I get the worst stomachaches ever when I talk to her. A tiny part of me doesn’t even want to get this internship back at Meryton because I know I’ll have to call Mom and tell her. That call, if it happens at all, is going to be bad. Really, really bad.

I check the time on the alarm clock next to Fred’s side of the bed. A little past eight. Whew. Luckily, I don’t have class until eleven on Tuesdays.

I climb out of bed and head for the master bathroom, a giant expanse of white marble with a huge tub and even bigger shower. I pee, wash my hands, and brush my teeth with my toothbrush I “borrowed” from the vanity.

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