Unholy Fears (The Miller Family Series Book 3) by Nicola C. Priest

Author:Nicola C. Priest [Priest, Nicola C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-05T16:00:00+00:00

11

I swear there's a brass band playing in my head. What the hell did we drink last night? I try and lift my head—then lower it back to the pillow when the pounding worsens. I remember Isaac joining us for drinks—after he threw out the two skanks who made it their mission to try and get Nate and Iain into bed. Then I remember Harry coming back with another round of drinks, and—

Oh god, that's why my head feels like a woodpecker is hammering away at my skull: tequila. Harry brought a bottle of tequila up to us, at the request of Isaac. I don't drink tequila. Not only do I hate the stuff, but it always makes me feel like shit the next day. Why did I drink it when I know what it does to me?

Rolling onto my side, I see Nate is still sleeping soundly. I take a moment to just look at him. My fingers are itching to touch him, but it's not often I get to just look at him without him knowing. The first thing that strikes me is his eyelashes. Why do men have such great eyelashes? Nate's are long and thick, fanning out against his skin. If you didn't know him, you'd swear he was wearing some kind of mascara to get them looking like that.

He hasn't shaved for a few days, so his jawline is covered in stubble. It gives him a rugged look I find incredibly sexy. I make a mental note to ask him to shave less often.

Giving in, I lift my arm from under the covers and reach out to touch him, my hand pausing in mid-air when he shifts. And then bright green eyes are looking at me.

Nate goes to lift his head, then winces. I grimace. I know what he's feeling. He hates tequila almost as much as I do, and he drank more than I did. If my head feels like woodpecker is going to work, his must feel like a jackhammer.

"Babe?" Nate says quietly. "What the fuck did we drink last night?"

I chuckle, stopping suddenly when my head starts banging. Nate rolls onto his back.

"That would be the tequila," I tell him, closing my eyes when sunlight begins to come through the blinds.

"Tequila? Why the fuck were we drinking tequila? We hate the stuff."

I chuckle again. "I think there was a dare involved somewhere," I tell him, as I lift my hands to my head and lightly press down on my temples, frowning when the pain doesn't ease.

"Probably involving Grey, the bastard. He knows how I am after tequila," Nate moans.

We lie there for the next fifteen minutes, enjoying the quiet. The ticking of the wall clock is the only thing we hear. It’s almost ten, and I haven’t heard anything that tells me Charlie is up and about. Come to think of it, I don't even remember her coming home with us last night.

I furrow my brow as I try to remember the

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