Salty

Six | One-Night Stand Soup

Six | Ollie

The room was cast in a caramel-colored glow, stemming from the only window within it. The apartment was freezing, just as it always was in the morning. It was one fault of living in a building over a hundred years old. Even on warm days, the wind coming from Lake Michigan caused the drafty windows to rattle. The brick walls were no help with keeping it warm either, as they lacked proper insulation. When the radiator kicked on, the metal vibration caused me to stir from an exceptionally deep sleep.

The sheets were just as cold as the apartment, and I seemed to lack most of them. I shivered, idly using my arm to search for the missing covers. I kept my eyes hooded with a hangover that was already searing through my head. When I came up short, I forced just one lid open. There, on the opposite end of the queen-sized bed, was the culprit.

I used my thumb and pointer finger and pressed them hard against my eyelids, letting out a pained groan. That explained why I was naked and cold. I had brought someone upstairs last night.

While staring at nothing more than a mess of brown hair and the smooth skin of her shoulder—the one peeking out of the covers I was lacking—I tried to recall the events of the night before. The first memory that hit me was laughter—her laughter mixed with my own. Jesus, I laughed my ass off last night. When was the last time I had laughed until it hurt?

I worked a full shift and was pissed there was a band playing off schedule. It meant I would not get any sleep. I was about to cuss out Mikah when I saw...

... the grocery store chick.

I rolled to my stomach and dropped my face into the pillow with another groan. Why did I do this to myself again? I always bring home the crazy ones.

Now it was time to wait for the awkward moment when she woke up, and I could see just how well those beer-goggles were working last night. If I recalled the grocery store correctly, this girl was a goddamn catastrophe. She looked bat shit crazy.

Who marinates their soup?

My head pained again. I needed Aspirin... possibly whisky.

As I slowly exited the bed, searching the dark wood floor for any sort of pants to cover myself, an unfamiliar alarm clock sounded. It made an annoying chirping noise instead of the normal iPhone tone I was familiar with. My attention shifted back to the stranger, waiting for her to stir from her state of sleep. And she did.

Her arm dropped over the side of the bed. This slight movement alone had me panicking, wondering where the hell we had shed our clothing last night. She let out the smallest groan, obviously feeling the same effects of last night's fun. Keeping the white sheets clutched to her chest as she sleepily rubbed her eyes with a free hand, she sat herself upright. As soon as groggy eyes met mine, the memories of the night before hit me. Her stunning eyes widened. The sheet dropped to be quickly recovered and pulled up to her chin. My cock twitched with the brief sight of her naked frame, recalling taking her all over the apartment and kissing every inch of skin I could find—minus the lips, of course.

Sloan.

That was the name I called out repeatedly during our marathon of sex during the night. I didn't remember falling asleep, but it had to have been just a few hours prior. There were no sounds coming from the bar beneath my feet; meaning it couldn't be ten o'clock yet. The sex had been incredible, and now I could see I was very wrong about the grocery store girl being a mess. Even with bedhead, smeared eyeliner, and a clear hangover after a night of sexual antics, Sloan was still so hot my mouth watered.

"Hey." My hand moved swiftly to hide morning wood. I was hoping she hadn't noticed me becoming harder when the sheet dropped.

Shock was still written across her face as she glanced around the room and back to me. There were a few rapid blinks. Her mouth—and fuck, that mouth was phenomenal—was partially opened, as if wanting to ask a million questions and not knowing where to begin. I was silently praying she was not too drunk to remember what had happened last night. I never brought drunk girls up here—wanting them sober for this reason. But last night was different. I had no intention of even spending over ten minutes with her, but I couldn't stop myself. We laughed, and things got so heated I had to have her.