Stripped Down Read Online Free PDF

slammed into me right between my eyes, and I winced as it settled in a sharp yet dull ache that threatened to make my brain explode.
    Of course.
    It was slowly coming back to me. He’d handed me tequila, made me talk, insisted on taking me home, and then, when he’d deemed I was wearing too many clothes for a lap dance...
    Kissed me.
    Oh god.
    Oh. God.
    I rubbed my hand down my face and got out of the bed. My clothes were still strewn across the floor, and as memories of the night before trickled into my consciousness, I fought to beat them away.
    I wanted to remember how I’d gotten there.
    Not how thoroughly my boss had fucked me last night.
    I grabbed my panties and then looked around for my bra as I pulled my thong up my legs. It was gross but dry, and I knew there were no others in my bag. Wherever that was. I grabbed my bra and clasped it beneath my boobs—
    Oh no.
    What was that?
    I held my left hand out in front of me and focused on the encrusted, white-gold band wrapped around my fourth finger. It glittered despite the lack of light, and I staggered back onto the bed.
    There was no doubt about it.
    I was definitely missing a huge chunk of what the fuck had happened last night.
    Something knocked somewhere else in the house. I hoped like all hell that that was Beckett and nobody else was there. Unfortunately for me, getting away without talking to him was no longer an option. I had to talk to him and find out why the hell I had a wedding ring on my finger.
    That wasn’t the kind of irresponsible I had been thinking of when I’d done the tequila shots last night. Too drunk to walk? Sure. Vomit all morning? Okay. Hangover that’d last for three days in the back of my mind? Annoying but okay.
    A wedding ring? Um, no.
    I quickly dressed, trying to ignore the sparkling of my finger. I racked my brain, trying to pull forward a memory of what had happened between leaving The Landing Strip and arriving here, but everything was blurred and almost completely blanked. I barely remembered even leaving the club.
    There was kissing, and then nothing until a car and more kissing.
    I buttoned my jeans and walked across the room to where the bathroom was. I really needed to wash my face. I hoped Beckett wouldn’t mind, but in the grand scheme of things, that was likely to be the last thing he worried about.
    I looked like hell. I had mascara smudged under my eyes, my hair looked as though a family of woodpeckers had nested in it, and I had a zit coming on the side of my nose.
    Wonderful.
    I didn’t even look like hell. I looked like I’d jumped right out of Doctor Who—but I was an alien creature.
    I quickly washed up and fingered my hair until it was kind of settled. I hoped he had my bag, because I vaguely remembered having left with it. If he did, I could at least tie it back until I could get home and shower.
    My stomach rolled, and not from the hangover, as I left the bedroom, shoes in hand. I could hear the whir of a coffee machine, and I desperately felt like I needed some, but I needed to leave more.
    “Cassie?”
    I heard his voice before I saw him, and when I saw him, I bit the inside of my cheek. He was shirtless, and his light-gray sweats hung low on his hips, hinting that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.
    “Um, I have a question,” I said quietly, stopping at the bottom of the staircase and gripping the banister. I held my hand up in front of me, the ring facing him. “What is that?”
    His dark eyes surveyed me, dropping from my gaze to the sparkler on my finger. Then he held up his own left hand and the solid band there. “That’s a wedding ring. Same as this one.”
    “Yeah... Yeah, I...figured that part out.” I cleared my throat. “I’m gonna need some elaboration.”
    “Do you want some coffee?”
    “Uh, no. I just wanna know.”
    “Sure.” He ran his fingers through his hair and waved at me to follow him.
    I dropped my shoes at the bottom of the stairs and padded barefoot across