[Currently being rewritten and updated chapter by chapter]
Book One in the "Hard Love" series.
It's hard being knocked down. And it's even harder getting back up.
Thalia Carter grew up on the south side of Chicago with a dead-beat dad and never real...
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I wake up to the most amazing smell. Something both spicy and smooth inebriates my brain, making me feel dizzy without even moving. But that also might just be the hangover.
The next thing I notice is how warm I am. Except it's not my clothes that are warming me up, although they certainly are cozy.
It's the chest I'm cuddled up against. No the body, considering my leg is draped over Mystery Man's thighs and I'm using my arm to pull him closer to me.
Oh shit.
My eyes shoot open. I fumble into a sitting position, wincing from the sharp light streaming through the sheer curtains. I see tattoos. And abs. Lots and lots of abs and taut, defined muscles. And holy fucking cheese balls it's Isaac.
Did we hookup? I glance down, realizing I'm in his clothes–a soft long sleeve t-shirt and boxers. Fuckity fuck. Moving my lower half around a little, I don't feel any soreness. I would definitely remember if we had sex, right? I mean, I hope I would, because to not remember sex with him would be a crime.
Stop it! Stop thinking about having sex with him!
I abruptly push him off his side of the bed, unsure of how to wake him up. His head appears a moment later, dark hair tousled and sticking up in every direction. And yet he still looks good enough to eat.
"Ow," Isaac exaggerates, rubbing his face as he wakes up. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" I whisper-shout. "What are you doing in my bed?"
"What are you talking about?" Isaac asks, standing up and stretching his arms and oh my god he's in nothing but a pair of boxers and I can see everything and it looks so good. Even the Fort Knox in the front of his boxers looks mouthwatering.
That's your inner freak talking. Don't listen to her.
Right. She's not our friend at the moment.
"I mean what are you doing in my bed?" I repeat myself, annunciating each word loud and clear.
Isaac gives me an amused look. "You're in my bed, Thals."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"We didn't, you know..." I trail off, unable to bring myself to say it. If we did, I don't know what I would do with myself. Probably start with banging my head against the wall and see where I go from there.
"If we did, you would feel it, trust me." Isaac smirks, shaking his head in a teasing manner. "Seriously, are you like an alcoholic or something? Why do I always end up taking care of you when you get drunk?"
My cheeks flame red, mainly because I don't remember him taking care of me last night. Everything is pretty much a blur of shots and beer pong with the girls, which Fallon sucks at.
