Tangled in Tinsel (Holidates #1)(38)

I don’t care if they wake up. I need to get off this bed and into the bathroom.

Cole moans, so I turn my head away, risking being poked in the ear as I continue to scoot. His dick drags up the back of my head as my lips get tickled by Reed’s hairy legs. I blow out tiny quick breaths, trying to keep the hair out of my mouth until my feet finally find the end of the bed.

About time. Jesus.

I wiggle until the weight of my body takes me off the side like a waterfall, dropping me down with a quiet thud.

My eyes search the ground as I wipe what is most likely precum from under my eye.

Jesus fucking Christ. Who would even believe this if I told it?

I know who…

I rise up, peeking over the end of the bed, my hands gripping the top of the mattress. Both men are still sleeping peacefully. So I lower back to all fours, crawling around to Reed’s side to grab my phone off the nightstand before I crawl faster all the way to the damn bathroom.





sixteen





“You’re a Ho Ho Ho.”





The moment the door shuts, I let out a quiet laugh in the dark as I reach up and twist the lock, letting my back rest against the wood. Safe.

My fingers fly over the keys, my face lit by my screen as I text my sister.

Me: You around? Helloooo. Where are you? Answer. It’s 6 p.m. I know you’re awake this time.





Bubbles immediately.

Elle: Did you get railed?





Me: I did…ish.





Elle: WTF does ish mean?





Me: It means I kind of did, and kind of didn’t.





Elle: Dummy, I know that. Details. Don’t make me drag it out of you. I’ve literally been thinking about your sex life all day. And usually, I feel sorry for you, so this has been a nice change. Now spill.





She will light me up when I tell her I fell asleep. I scoot my butt away from the door with no help from my hands as I text back.

Me: Well, it was dirty. And amazing. And everything I’d hoped for…but…





I use a hand to help me stand before I make my way inside the dark room to the toilet.

Elle: But? But what? What did you do? You better not have ruined this for us.





Is she kidding?

Me: For us?





Elle: Yeah, I’m throwing my name in the ring when you’re done. And don’t say ewww because you had four dicks in you today.





I’m laughing quietly as I close the toilet room door. I lean down after flicking on the light as I try to text while unraveling a wad of toilet paper. But I leave it dangling in my hand before shoving it under my chin to hold it so I can type faster.

Me: Actually, zero dicks. That’s the but.





Elle: What? You had zero dicks in the butt?





Me: Yes, I mean no. That’s not what I meant…dammit. I didn’t have any dicks anywhere. Except for my mouth. And my eye, if you count just now when I snuck out of bed.





Elle: Rollback. Someone FUCKED YOUR EYE? What is happening over there?





Me: No! Kinda. Jesus, just listen. I fell asleep earlier after some stuff happened. I basically came, then went full coma. And now I’m hiding in the bathroom. In the dark. Texting you. Almost about to piss myself from humiliation and because nature.





The phone rings almost the minute I hit send. I jump, panicking. Toilet paper goes flying as I lose my hold on the phone, bouncing it between my hands while playing “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber.

“Jesus,” I hiss, getting ahold of it and swiping it open. “What are you doing? Trying to wake up the whole house? Why are you calling me?”

I snatch the big-ass wad of toilet paper off the seat as she answers. But a beeping sound continues.

“Accept my FaceTime.”

What? Oh my god.

“No. Hell no.”

“Yes, bitch. Do it.”

My head’s shaking. She’s so untrustworthy. The worst little sister. I can’t FaceTime her. I won’t. There’s an ulterior motive here. But I’m weak, and she knows it.

“FaceTime me,” she presses.

“I’m in the dark, remember?” I lie unconvincingly because she comes back just as quick.

“Then turn on a light. Accept, or I’ll keep calling.”

I groan, saying, “I hate you,” as I hit accept and turn the volume down.

The smile on her face is obnoxious.

“Why do you look naked?”

“Because I am,” I hush back.

She snort-laughs. “Sam, if someone’s fucking your eye, you could’ve kept your shirt on.”

I scowl.

“I hate you. This isn’t funny. Nobody fucked my eye. Nobody fucked me, period.” I groan. “I have to pee. Talk to the ceiling for a minute.”

I set the phone down on the back of the toilet facing up.

“Put some paper down,” she yells, forcing me to pick the phone back up close to my face.

“Shhhh. I KNOW.” I set the phone back on the toilet, adding, “Keep talking…quietly. I’m muting you.”