The Right Kind of Wrong
“Hmmm… That was one of the best lays I’ve ever had.”
My eyes snap open when I hear the gruff voice next to me, and my heart slams against my ribs. A wave of nausea hits me as my memory returns, knocking my stupid sense out of the way so I can regain my wits.
I shriek, “Oh. My. God. Camden! I can’t believe I just had sex with you!” I jump off the bed, covering myself with one hand as I try to rip the sheets from the bed, although it’s pointless. He’s seen me naked already, more naked than a lot of people have. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that the spinning of the room is to blame for me being here as if that would mean I were in some kind of alternate universe and any minute I’d wake up in real life, not having been sexed up by my brother’s best friend.
“We didn’t just have sex. It’s been…” He reaches for his watch. “About six hours. If you want to do it again, I’m ready.” He lies back, placing his hands behind his head as the sheets leave his broad chest exposed. I eye his torso longingly and stop where the sheet barely covers his length, one that I now know is big and thick—in case the pitched tent he’s sporting wasn’t obvious enough.
I shake my head out of the fantasy, unable to believe I actually thought about having sex with him again.
“I need to go.” I grab my dress from last night, throwing it on, not bothering to look at myself in the mirror. There’s no point in adding insult to injury. I’m sure I look like shit.
When I slip out of his room, I see Averly, the owner of the bed and breakfast where I’m staying and one of Faith’s—my new sister-in-law—best friends standing in the hallway. She lifts her eyebrows in silence.
“Please don’t say anything,” I plead with wide eyes. My voice sounds desperate even to my own ears.
She lifts her hands. “Secret’s safe with me.” She smiles, clearly biting back her amusement.
“Ugh,” I drop my head back against the wooden door, and I yelp when it opens suddenly, a half-dressed Camden looking at me with raised eyebrows and a cocky smirk.
“Couldn’t get…” He sees Averly. “Oh, hey, nice place you run here. I was just checking to see if the paper was outside my door.”
Averly sputters as she tries to hold in her laughter. I glare at Camden. “She already saw me walk out of here, dumbass.”
“We’ve already got pet names for each other,” he tells Averly. I roll my eyes and walk away, ignoring him. When I step into my own room across the hall from Camden’s, I lean against the door and take a deep breath. What the hell did I do last night?
I jump in the shower and scrub my body on auto-pilot, as if that would wash away the remnants of memories of feeling Camden’s body over mine. My sore muscles remind me of the night before. Sweaty, tangled limbs. Breathless moans. Purposeful thrusts.
What possessed me to sleep with my brother’s best friend on the night my brother, Easton, got married? Scratch that, on any night. Camden is… Not the guy for me, whatsoever. Not even a little bit. Not even if it was—using his words—one of the best lays I’ve ever had. Once I return to Spain, this will all become a distant memory.
I blame this on my current life situation. Having moved to a country I knew nothing about to help start an international branch for my company, feeling as if my personal life is on hold because of my career, and not having any intimacy since before I moved. It all adds to this terrible decision.
Rinsing the conditioner from my hair, I wring out the excess water and sigh, turning off the shower. I pray to God that no one saw me leave with Camden last night. My brother would kill me… Or Camden. Or both of us. I cringe and grab the towel from the hook next to the shower and wrap it around my body, water droplets from my hair soaking my shoulders and back.
Okay, Allyson, get it together.
Last night was…emotional. Watching Easton get married to his high school sweetheart after being apart for years was great. Having attended his wedding as a single gal was not. That’s probably why I leaned on Camden. It was easy to do so.
Yeah, that’s totally why. I nod my head, looking at myself in the mirror and gripping the edge of the gray and white granite that covers the top of the vanity. No one has to know about this. It was a mistake. A one-night stand. Scratching an itch.
And he sure as hell scratched it, with precise perfection.
I jolt when my phone pings with a message and step out of the bathroom to check who it is, hoping it isn’t someone asking me about my night with Camden.
Speaking of my mistake, the text is from him. Opening my messages, I groan when I see a picture of my panties on the screen with a message below.
Camden: You left these here… Unless they’re my souvenir
I roll my eyes and hold in my scream. I hope to all that’s mighty that I don’t regret this one mistake.
©2021, Fabiola Francisco
The Right Kind of Wrong is a touching and swoon-worthy romance. If you like sexy heroes, witty banter, and surprise twists, then you’ll love this brother’s best friend romance.
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