Page 205 of Faking the Goal

"Why?"

"Because you just can't."

She goes limp for a second, apparently considering this, before turning her head enough to glare at me. "But I want you to fuck me."

Fuck.

Fucking me too.

I let out a low groan and tighten my arm around her before she can start fighting me again. "We can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you're drunk."

"So?" she slurs, sounding genuinely offended by this outrageous discrimination against drunk people. "I can still have sex."

"Not with me tonight."

She gasps like I've personally insulted her.

"Ken-chan."

"No."

"Just tonight," she bargains, wriggling around in my hold. "I really, really need it."

"You need sleep."

"I need sex."

"You're getting sleep."

"Sex makes people sleepy."

I stare at the wall.

Of course she has a fucking counterargument.

"Go to sleep, Taylor."

"You're being unreasonable."

I almost laugh.

Me.

I'm being unreasonable.

Apparently, this is not a compelling argument to Taylor Lewis, because she makes an annoyed little sound and starts squirming in my arms again. I hold her tighter, mostly to keep her still, which turns out to be a catastrophic fucking decision when she presses her ass directly against my very obvious boner.

A groan tears out of me before I can stop it.

Fuck.

I drop my head back against the pillow harder than I mean to and bite down on my lower lip, staring at the ceiling like there might be divine intervention waiting up there.

There isn't.