Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) Read Online Fiona Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Blame it on the Alcohol Series by Fiona Cole
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
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“Should I expect this sash and tiara at the wedding?” he joked, laying it on the dresser.

“Maybe. I think the hot pink glitter might go well with our cream peonies. Think we could add a new color scheme last minute?”

He snorted, watching me undo my pants.

Shit.

Realizing I was undressing in front of him, I turned to head to the closet. All while still trying to get my pants off.

Halfway there, I focused too much on getting my hands under the waistband of my leather pants and stumbled over nothing.

Rough hands spanned across my ribs, keeping me from face-planting.

“Are you okay?”

My body shook. Laughter started in my chest and slowly worked its way free. He turned me around and pushed my once perfectly curled hair, but now a sweaty, tangled mess, from my face, even taking care to pluck the few strands from my eyelashes.

“Oh, my god. I’m just going to live in these pants now. There’s no way I’m getting them off,” I claimed through peals of laughter.

“I’d suggest baby powder and lotion, but then it might turn into a paste.”

My jaw dropped. “You watch Friends,” I squealed in excitement.

I realized the pitch I’d reached when his eyes widened before he exaggeratedly winced and rubbed at his ears.

“Oh, shut up,” I said, shoving his hard shoulder.

Of course, having much more mass and a better center of gravity than me, he stood still, and I stumbled back. He gripped my waist again, and I went back to laughing.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“A lot. We kind of started at Raelynn’s place when we were getting ready.”

“At four?”

“We at least waited until five.”

“It’s two-thirty now.”

“Damn. I’m kind of impressed I’m still standing.”

“Well, I am holding you up.”

“Very true.” I tapped his chest and nodded like he’d imparted some epic knowledge.

I sighed, my shoulders dropping as the adrenaline of the night left my body with each passing second. I eyed my leather pants, remembering thinking they were the best idea ever and now wanting to just cut them off.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep in these.”

“Really?” he deadpanned.

“Well, I’d cut them, but I kind of like them.”

“Do you want help?”

“I definitely think it’s a two-man job. And since it’s just you and me, you’re in luck. Strip me,” I proclaimed.

The sweat from all the dancing cooled and made the leather stick to my skin like glue, and in that moment, I didn’t care if I undressed in front of him. I just wanted the damn things off.

We both bowed our heads and dug our hands into the waistband, trying to pull them down. I stumbled again and bumped my head to his.

“Shit. Sorry.”

“Always bumping into me,” he joked.

“Ha-fucking-ha.”

His lips tipped, softening the usual scowl or arrogant smirk. “You swear a lot when you drink.”

“Like a fucking sailor.”

Pulling his hands free, he held mine and guided me to lay on the bed. “This may be easier.”

“I bet,” I muttered, laying back.

He gripped both sides at my hips and tugged. Some pulls had me sliding down the bed with the pants, and by the time he got them down far enough to roll them off, I had both arms around my waist, clutching my stomach in a fit of laughter.

“Jesus Christ. Why bother wearing them?” he asked, out of breath.

“Because I look hot in them.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

He tossed the pants aside, and I stood, lifting my arms up like a child.

“Need help with your top?”

“It’s tight,” I whined. “And everything is spinning a wee bit faster. Just…don’t look.”

I closed my eyes like I was the one not supposed to look.

“Okay.”

His hands skimmed the bare skin of my hips, stroking softly in a way that had nothing to do with helping me take my shirt off, but I just kept my eyes closed and arms up. If I didn’t see it, I didn’t have to acknowledge it, and it could happen. Right?

Right.

He peeled that black, lacy, stretch material up my ribs, and I held my breath when the cool air reached the underside of my breasts. Seconds stretched into what felt like forever, his breathing picking up pace. The material scraped past my nipples with a rush of cool air, pulling them to aching points. He tugged the top up and off.

I dropped my arms to my sides and forced my eyes open, half expecting to find him staring at my breasts. Instead, I found him staring at me. Our eyes collided, and Raelynn’s questions about why I wouldn’t just fuck him came roaring back.

His eyes beckoned me like the snake in the garden of Eden.

Give in. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.

I knew he would. I remembered. And that was at a party, fully dressed—imagine what he could do naked with an entire bedroom at his disposal.

But like I’d said, I didn’t want to want him.


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