The only rules I live by are my own.
I never offer a girl more than one night. I never sleep with the same girl twice. And I never sleep with virgins.
But when I meet Taylor Price, I will break every rule to have her.
Loving Bad was Taylor's story...
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I lay on my back. My head hurt, and my hand touched my forehead gently. It felt like an army of elephants marching through my head. I recalled the memories of the night before. It wasn't like I'd gotten drunk enough to make a mistake I would regret, I knew exactly what I'd been doing.
Movement beside me brought me back to the present as I opened an eye and took in the sight of a beautiful naked girl, barely covered with the sheet, curled up by my side. Remembering our night together made me feel empty inside. The fleeting closeness of sex was over and the hollowness in my chest tightened, reminding me of what I was still trying to outrun.
Girls in my life were like everything else: temporary, fleeting and disposable.
I stared at her for a few seconds, trying to recall her name, but all I could remember was that it started with a T. Was it Tracy or Tiffany? It didn't matter. The initial attraction and reprieve she'd held were gone. After this we would be strangers in the hall, barely acknowledging each other, which suited me just fine.
My attraction to the opposite sex didn't usually last long. One night was all I could offer. I'd dealt with enough situations to know I couldn't give more. If I wasn't up front it would lead to tears and hopes I couldn't live up to.
I swung my legs over and sat up. I needed space.
I'd been clear and up front when I had promised her sex with no strings attached. Most guys my age were shallow and sex-crazed but my issues went deeper than that. This wasn't something I was going to outgrow.
The girl in my bed sighed slightly in her sleep. I grabbed my jeans from beside the bed and pulled them on, wanting to escape before she woke up.
I needed coffee. My stomach grumbled slightly. And food.
Without a backward glance to my overnight guest, I left my room. The party we had thrown the night before had been wild. The living room downstairs was a mess. Discarded cups—some empty, some not—littered most of the surface area.
"You look like crap," Slater, my best friend, said as I walked to where he was casually leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.
He was tall and similarly built to me. I had dark blue eyes with short black hair and he had light blue eyes with light brown hair that was slightly longer. If we had similar hair coloring, we could probably pass for brothers.
We even shared a love for tattoos and piercings. He had an eyebrow ring. I had both ears pierced as well as my lip. He sported a tattoo sleeve like mine. Some tattoos were markings from our past to remind us of what we had overcome.
"So do you," I replied bluntly. He looked tired but I knew it wasn't the result of our party. He never got enough sleep. Demons from his past kept him awake at night. Mine kept me from finding solace in anything in my life.
He shrugged. "At least one of us got laid." He straightened up when I passed him into the kitchen.
"You had a girl ready to tear your clothes off last night," I reminded him as I got a mug and poured some coffee into it. "What happened?"
