Knot so Lucky (The holidates series Book 2)

eleanor

Jesus, what is wrong with me.

How am I the main character in my own life and simultaneously completely unreliable? I can’t be trusted with my thoughts. Case in point: I already had to take a cold shower. Because all I could think about in the car was Crew’s cock. The whole time.

And there wasn’t even a fucking detachable showerhead.

This place is amateur hour. Two stars. Also, how am I surviving this bet? I will though…for the sisterhood.

But I swear I feel like it’s been imprinted on me.

Like I’m Jacob and his cock is my Renesmee.

I have to stop watching Twilight before I go to bed.

Why can’t I want a guy who’s into charity and like helps old people across the street? Not one who fucked me with his friends and only speaks caveman. All I know is Millie better hurry up and get here with my shit because I am not walking out in this towel or my failed divorce clothes.

My fingers brush back and forth on the soft comforter on the bed. A soft exhale leaves my chest as I stare up at the ceiling from where I’ve been lying. It feels like a week has passed, but it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since we met. Jesus.

I close my eyes, trying to relax, until a ruckus clammers on the other side of the door.

“Crew” is bellowed before another equally deep voice says, “Where’s our girl?”

Oh fuck. I snap to sitting, clutching the towel, eyes growing wider by the minute.

Our girl? Oh my god.

“The Tweedles,” I whisper to myself conspiratorially.

My head swings side to side, looking for my clothes, because I’m suddenly filled with the urge to put them back on just so I can run out of this room and see these two.

It’s not every day a girl gets to re-meet two one-night-simultaneous stands.

Laughter bleeds through the walls, and I hold my own in because Crew’s voice rumbles with irritation.

“Shut the fuck up, Nate.”

My fingers find my lips, amused. What is he mad about? I don’t have to wonder long because he adds, “TJ, you open that door and I’ll break your fucking arm.”

Wait. Door! Fuck.

I scramble off the bed, turning in circles, looking for anything to cover me. For fuck’s sake, I look like a drowned rat with unbrushed hair. Can someone, for the love of god, just re-meet me when I’m hot?

Now that we have a new bet, the Tweedles are fair game. And if I have to be here for a month, I’d really like them to play with me.

The handle turns, and I hit full panic, grabbing the comforter and yanking it hard. But it’s not tucked in like on a normal hotel bed. It’s loose. And now, so am I from where I was just standing.

My feet kick up into the air as I squeal, making me drop my towel as I fall, spinning and wrapping myself up in the blanket. The thud my ass makes is followed by a “Fuck” from my mouth as laughter rings out.

“She’s covered,” I hear yelled out, followed by a different voice saying, “And on her ass.”

I laugh. I can’t help it.

I’m sitting on the damn floor, butt-ass naked, covered in a blanket.

Like a dog rubbing on a rug, I scooch around underneath my fluffy little tent, gathering the material around me before I carve out a little opening for my face to peek out.

A piece of my hair flies off my forehead, landing back in the same spot as I blow it before unsuccessfully hiding my smile.

“Hi.”

Two incredibly handsome behemoths stare back, and I instantly like them…again.

What’s not to like?

Nate is built like a brick shithouse with black hair, brown eyes, and a decent amount of stubble on his face. He’s wearing shorts that must be custom-made because his tattooed thighs are thicker than sexy intended. Yum.

And TJ is an extra-dirty, auburn-bearded god. He’s a little shorter and leaner than Nate but just as sexy because his hazel eyes make you want to melt in them. The showstopper is his insanely well-defined forearms. The veins alone could make a nun sweat.

Suddenly, the memory of TJ pulling the front of the Elvis jumpsuit open and pretending to lick his nipple during our complimentary wedding photos blesses my mind.

“Hey, Elvis.”

TJ chuckles and walks over to me, staring down before he squats.

“Girl, you look like a real cute version of ET.” He winks and points to himself. “Not Elvis, TJ.” He then hooks a thumb over his shoulder to the brick shithouse. “Nate.”

Oh, I’m a little swoony because I’d forgotten about TJ’s twinge of a Southern drawl. It’s enough to make my panties wet…if I had any on.

“I know…I remember you. I wasn’t that drunk. But it’s nice to meet you again.”

In fact, I remember everything way too acutely right now.

TJ smirks, staring into my eyes.

“It was more than nice the first time, sweetheart.”

I press my lips together as he winks and reaches out, gripping where my shoulders are hidden under the fluffy comforter, and lifts. I squeal but hold the blanket tight as he sets me to my feet.

“Atta girl. Let’s get ya off your ass.”

“Thank you,” I say sweetly, eyes shifting to Nate as he holds up a bag of McDonald’s. “Yes!” I draw out, shuffling toward it like a clumsy penguin.

I rock my head back and forth because my hair is stuck inside the blanket before stopping in front of Nate.

“You are a lifesaver. Seriously. I’m starving. I was promised lunch, but seems my ball and chain’s already set on disappointing me.”

I jerk my head toward the bed, where TJ is now sitting, and Nate’s eyes follow.

“You should let us make it up to you. We never disappoint.”

Oh, hello.

Nate grins and winks at me, whispering, “It’s true,” before slipping his hand around the back of my neck, adding, “Let me,” as he pulls my hair free.

Oh, man. As if one of these charmers wasn’t enough. The way these two fuckers seem to tag team everything makes my skin heat. I let out a quiet half laugh before I bite my lip.

I’m about to say something when Crew clears his throat from behind Nate. And it’s not the kind people do because they have something clogging it. No, it’s the excuse me, I’m here kind.

My teeth immediately find the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. Mainly because Nate doesn’t move as he stares down at me with mischief in his eyes. I like him. But before I can tell him that, Nate gives and takes a step away, clearing the doorway.

I shift my head, and all I see is Crew.

Fuck. Me.

The not-love of my life is seated on the arm of the couch…shirtless…and in gray sweats. When did he get those? He must’ve snuck into the room while I was in the shower.

Good god. And I mean that.

Because there has to be one. I believe now.

Only someone who created miracles could think I was making it out of this moment without breaking all ten of the ’ments.

My eyes peruse his body. Shamelessly.

If I could stop them, I would. But…for fuck’s sake…he has that v thing that disappears into his sweats like it’s pointing to buried treasure. I remembered it, but in person, the drunk memory didn’t do it justice. And he has a six-pack when he’s sitting. Nobody has a six-pack when they’re sitting.

He’s perfect… I hate him. I hope he gets the stomach flu. After we fuck.

No. Goddammit. Keep your legs closed for the sisterhood, ho.

Crew brings a hand to his chest, rubbing it, and I feel my mouth water like my body’s actually embarrassed that I’m this thirsty.

I wonder if all girls are this horny? There’s got to be medication for this. Like the anti-Viagra or whatever the equivalent is for women. I roll my eyes at myself, going for snarky as I look at him, trying to hide the bang me leaking from my pores.

“Gray sweatpants…really?”

Crew smirks as I continue. “You’re a filthy whore. Put some clothes on.”

I did not hide anything.

A voice from behind him makes my eyes pop open wide.

“I told you she wouldn’t fall for it. Nice try though. But my bestie isn’t caving.”

“Millie,” I shriek, jumping up and down and almost dropping my bag of Mickey D’s as she laughs.

Crew’s eyes stay on me. And for the first time in the last hour, I smile at him before tugging my blanket tighter.

I can’t help it. He lost, and I won this round. Cha-ching.

He bends down to grab my bag, the one I didn’t even notice, before he stands and walks toward us, but Nate blocks the doorway, crossing his arms as he leans against the frame.

“Do I have you to thank for bringing my friend?” I all but purr.

He nods slowly, eyes on mine. TJ comes up behind me and whispers in my ear.

“You can thank Nate first…or both of us at the same time if you’d like.”

I don’t know if there’s such a thing as being dickmotized, but I think I’m that. These two don’t give a girl time to think straight. I’m already being tag teamed while our clothes are on…or theirs are, at least. My teeth find my lip before Crew jerks Nate backward, making me laugh.

“Go get dressed,” he grinds out, setting my duffel at my feet as Nate chuckles, holding up his hands before turning and walking toward the couches.

But Crew doesn’t move, eyes only ticking to TJ before my Southern Tweedle says, “Fun’s over.”

TJ touches my blanket-covered waist to gently push me aside before joining Nate.

But Crew hovers over me, a smile peeking out. We’re just standing there staring at each other, and it feels a little like déjà vu. I’m already instantly flustered when he’s this close, but now with him shirtless…it’s having an effect…everywhere.

He takes a deep breath, and the dirtiest thought soaks my mind. The idea that he could smell me, like know how turned on I am right now, exactly the way the guys in all the romance books I read do. Because this pussy is wet and throbbing just enough to remind me that not fucking him is a hardship.

Crew lifts his hand, dipping his fingers inside the collar of my blanket, and my breath catches. He grins, pausing only for a moment before he slowly pulls it open…just enough so he can peer down.

My entire goddamn body is burnt to a crisp. I’ve already gone up in flames. Now I’m cooked. It’s the way he’s smirking, daring me to stop him…it’s the way I don’t, in fact, stop him as we sexually double-dog dare each other.

“Are you trying to torture yourself?” I whisper, hidden in our bubble. “Because do not forget that everything underneath this blanket is for looking and not touching.”

He licks his bottom lip before pressing his fingers under my chin, forcing it up, our eyes locked.

“Wild Card, no more flirting with the bench. I’m the starting fucking lineup.”