One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(13)

I dug my phone out of my clutch, the battery low, but it at least had enough juice for me to hail an Uber.

Thank God.

Snatching my heels from the floor, I unlatched the front door lock, the straps of my heels wound through my fingers and swinging from one hand.

Harsh sunlight glared down, and I squinted against the intrusion. In the clarity of day, things became so much more obvious.

My disheveled appearance. The hair I was rockin’ screamed I’d just spent the entire night being completely and utterly ravaged. Smeared make-up.

I had to look like a train wreck.

My stomach twisted at the realization.

I was doing a straight up walk of shame.

Never before had I felt so exposed or on display.

Pulling in a stealing breath, I lifted my chin and marched down the long drive.

It was time to leave this night behind.

Toss a padlock on this sucker and let the weeds grow up around it.

Like a beautiful old house with the windows boarded up.

Buried but never forgotten.

Just distant memories that could never be reclaimed.

Ones that only I would ever know.

Because girls like me didn’t do these types of reckless things.

Like climb a freaking wrought-iron gate wearing this damned dress to even get out of the compound.

I was betting that was pretty.

I scoffed. Nothing but a poster child for elegance and sophistication.

Yeah right.

I dropped down on the other side.

As soon as I saw the small black sedan slow, looking for me, I all but ran for it.

Because I couldn’t stand to think of what I looked like right then for a second longer. I ducked into the backseat and breathed out a relieved breath.

The car flipped a U in the middle of the road, and I chanced looking back over my shoulder.

The tiniest flash of sadness swept through my senses.

No man had ever affected me the way Paxton Myles had. He had ruined me in the best of ways. I honestly doubted another could compare.

And there was just something about him...something more than that megawatt smile and his mind-blowing kisses.

But that was the thing about fantasies. You could only live in them for a little while.

Just before we rounded the curve, I whispered a silent goodbye to my one wild night.



I blew out a relieved breath and sagged against the inside of my front door, reaching back to lock it behind me. I tossed my keys to the small bowl on the entryway table, tossed my clutch behind, and plugged in my dead phone to recharge.

Forty-five minutes and an $80.00 fare later, I was home free.

My townhouse was small, and I walked through the cozy living room with the overstuffed couch and messy coffee table, the walls lined with books and pictures and knickknacks, as I made my way into my room and to my tiny en suite bathroom that wasn’t much larger than a closet.

Swanky, I know.

I turned on the shower full blast, relishing a calming breath as steam began to billow into the small room.

First order of business was ridding myself of the dress.

It pooled at my feet, and I kicked it aside where it was left in a heaped-up ball. I only felt the teeniest twinge of guilt for completely ruining Elle’s dress. One I could do without knowing the price tag of.

I hadn’t decided if she’d ruined my night or completely made it. I still hadn’t settled on whether to chew her out for not showing or to sing her praises.

I was sure what happened last night wouldn’t have happened had she been there.

I stepped into the warm spray. A tiny moan rolled up my throat as the pounding water began to ease my tight muscles, my hips perfectly sore from where Paxton had gripped them tight.

An ache of pure satisfaction throbbed between my thighs. An ache I secretly prayed would never go away.

I washed and rinsed, slowly dried and applied lotion, all the while allowing myself to savor the memories spinning through my head.

I bit my lip, fighting a blush when I thought of all the things we’d done. My face was flushed when I looked in the mirror, and I was betting it had zero to do with the hot shower I’d just stepped from and rather the unforgettable experience from last night.

Life was little more than a gathering of memories.

These were memories I was never going to let go of.

I slipped into a cozy pair of shorts and a tee, figuring after last night I was due a lazy day. I headed into the kitchen, made a piece of toast, and fiddled with my Keurig for a cup of coffee.

Once it was properly doused with sugar and creamer, I took a sip and bit into my toast, enjoying them both as I wandered back to the entryway and fired back up my phone.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

I frowned.

I had like a gazillion messages. Before I had a chance to check any of them, my phone began to ring.

Elle’s picture and name lit up the faceplate.

A grin split my mouth.

I swallowed around the toast I was chewing, quick to answer the phone, my tone playful and light.

Apparently, it hadn’t taken me all that much to decide which side I’d landed on.

I was thankful.

Thankful I got the experience.

The memories.

I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Hey, hooker,” I said, “You better have a good explanation for last night. For real…all the details, and they’d better be good.”