Hooking up with Jameson Hawthorne was a bad idea. Sure, he was nice, it was easy, but it was bad.

You had been losing your mind lately. And stupidly, you thought messing around with Jameson Hawthorne was the answer.

Every time you try to talk to him, you can’t. You’re thinking about how he was so close to you last night and- no.

His breath on your neck. Your jeans on his floor.

This. Is. Bad.

You’re drawn back every time, tapping on his bedroom window. The bedroom window of Hawthorne House. Capitalised.

Jameson was drunk. You were crashing out. That can’t be a good thing, can it?

“Hey, Heiress,” he says carelessly as you climb through the window. “So nice to see you on this fine night.” He was extremely intoxicated. Few too many bottles of vodka.

God, he was so far gone. Both of you were.