I woke up, my head pounding, wincing at the early morning sunlight making its way through my window. I lifted a hand to cradle my aching head and shifted my legs, surprised to find myself sore. Down there. And then it all came back in a horrifying, humiliating rush. My outburst at the church. After the argument with my parents, I remember going to the bar. A handsome guy bought me drinks.

My heart skipped a beat and I turned my head on the pillow, regretting the movement while at the same time staring with dismay at the man who slept beside me. Only God. A splash of brown hair splayed on the pillow. He had a strong profile, a very slightly protruding chin and a high forehead. His eyes were deep set, eyebrows slashing an angle over them. I couldn't remember the color of his eyes.

Vague memories of what I had done with him last night flitted through my brain. I vaguely remembered the trails of heat his tongue had made on my body, the way his fingers had tweaked my nipples, plunged into my depths, and the way he had cradled me in his lap as he sat, me on his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist as I lowered myself down onto his engorged cock. He'd stroked into me, my nipples hardening even more as they brushed against his slightly hairy and well-formed chest. Most of all though, I recalled his kisses. Odd, how a kiss from a stranger could fill me with such as sense of… of rightness. He was a good kisser. Not demanding, but in control. His lips didn't crush mine, but caressed them. And oh, that tongue of his… I recalled it tangling gently with mine. Teasing, evoking feelings deep inside my belly I hadn't felt in a long time—

Oh God. Had he worn a condom? I was taking birth control pills, but they didn't do anything to prevent STD's. My entire body felt warm and tingly as I recalled the things we had done, his magic fingers, his tongue worshipping every part of my body, the way I had taken him into my mouth and given him the blow job of his life—

I gasped, cradling my head again, but out of shame this time. What the hell was wrong with me?

"Good morning."

I removed my hand from my eyes and found the guy staring at me. Chocolate brown. That was the color of his eyes. What was his name? I felt a surge of nausea rising in my stomach. Ben. That was it. I uttered the first words that had gotten trapped in my brain. "Why are you still here?"

He merely grinned at me. No doubt he was handsome, and there was especially no doubt that he knew how to please a woman, but I didn't want him here. Not anymore. Hadn't I suffered enough humiliation as it was? I lifted the sheet higher to make sure my breasts were covered. He watched the motion with another of those grins. I couldn't help but notice the small dimple on his left cheek when he grinned. Dammit. I wasn't looking for love. I wasn't looking for a boy-toy. I wasn't looking for a lover. I didn't even know the guy! I bit back a groan as I extended my arm and pointed out of my bedroom, down the hallway, and in the general direction of the front door. "Get out."

He offered a bemused frown, although, much to my relief, he did acquiesce and climb out of my bed. Despite my ordering myself not to, I found myself ogling him. My God, he was good-looking. He was lean, like a runner or a mountain climber – not that I'd ever met one in person, but his broad shoulders, well developed, as were his biceps. His broad chested tapered to a narrow waist. Well-delineated abs, not a six-pack, but close, and when I saw his limp dick lying in its nest of dark brown, curly hair, it offered a wiggle of greeting. I felt the heat of a flush rise in my cheeks and pulled my eyes back up toward his.

"Please," I said, my voice squeaking with awkwardness. "Just grab your clothes and go."

Without a word, he did as I requested, not hurrying, but not lingering too long. He wore a pleasant expression, as if he wasn't insulted, and I couldn't help but remember what a generous lover he had been. Once again, my mind drifted to the sensations that his tongue elicited as it swirled casually, unhurriedly around my nipples, then gently suckling. I remembered the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close against his warmth. I recalled his teasing tongue in my mouth, then tracing a line between my breasts, down to my belly button, and then lower, gentle, taking his time, and evoking sensations within me that I hadn't felt in longer than I care to remember. My pussy responded to those memories even now, tingling and starting to throb with a mind of its own.

Even in my drunken stupor, I recalled feeling… I'm not sure if cherished as the right word, but it certainly wasn't a 'wham bam thank you ma'am' kind of sex either. It was leisurely, unhurried, filled with rising and falling waves of anticipation, sensations, and feelings. I do remember that I had enjoyed more than one orgasm.

"See you around, Karen."

With that, he was gone. I heard his steps echoing down the hallway, then the soft opening and closing of my apartment door. For the second day in a row I had to ask myself what the hell was wrong with me… not only was I nursing a migraine and a doozy of a hangover, but I had engaged in a drunken one-night stand with a complete stranger. This kind of behavior just wasn't me.

I laid back in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to determine how I felt. About everything. Why did I always listen to my parents? Why was I so desperate to gain their approval? When was I going to grow up and take control of my life? And why in the hell had I allowed a total stranger to take me home and then have sex with him?

Heaving a sigh and feeling plenty sorry for myself, I managed to scramble naked out of bed and into the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the aspirin bottle, and popped three of them into my mouth, choking them down with a glass full of water as I eyed my blurry reflection in the mirror. Shaking my head at my own reflection, I moved away from the sink and turned on the water faucets for the shower. I tested the water and then climbed in. The water pounding on my skin was refreshing. I still smelled of sex and of Ben's aftershave. Again, I mentally kicked myself. I blanked out my mind as I took a long, warm, leisurely shower, after which I dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt. No way in hell was I going out in public today.

I needed coffee. I had barely sat down at my kitchen table and swallowed the first sip of the strong brew when the firm knock on my door startled me. A slosh of coffee spilled over the tip of my mug. I glanced at drops of the brew on my table with a scowl. It better not be that guy. Ben. Frowning, I walked over to the door, coffee mug in hand and peered through the peep hole. Crap. It was my parents.

Maybe if I pretended not to be here—

"Karen, we know you're in there. Open the door."

Even while I told myself not to open the door, to ignore them, I reached for the knob and opened it. Both my parents stood on the threshold, warily eyeing me. Without waiting for an invitation, my mother stepped into the apartment, followed by my dad. I wasn't in the mood for them today. Not in the least. Not for any criticism, not more humiliation, not even commiseration, as if that was a possibility. As far as I was concerned, I felt they had some nerve showing up.

"Are you all right?"

I turned to my mother, the always-put-together Melanie Queen, eyebrows lifted up the question. Before I could even respond, she continued.

"You look awful."

"Thanks, Mom, making a public spectacle of myself can do that."

"Watch the attitude, young lady," she said, placing her purse down on the kitchen table, eyeing the drops of coffee. My father stood nearby, his face emotionless. Even so, I saw the way he quickly glanced around, as if looking for something amiss.

"So, what brings you here?" I asked. Might as well get it over with, whatever it was.

"We came to check on you, darling," Mom said. "I mean, after what happened yesterday—"

"I can't believe I allowed you to talk me into doing that," I said, raising my voice in spite of my promise that I would remain calm and put this issue behind me. "I should've known what was behind your desire for me to do so, but to be honest, I'll tell you something. I'm not going to go chasing after a man who wants nothing to do with me."

"Ashley took something that belonged to you, Karen," Mom said, her gaze cool.

I shook my head, ignoring the throbbing headache as I snapped back at her. "Daniel didn't belong to me, Mom. He never did. And it's more than obvious now. And I'll tell you something. Never again am I going to allow myself to be talked into doing—"

"You're working yourself into a tizzy," Mom said with a wave of her hand. "Quit moping and please, stop with the melodramatics. What happened, happened. But we brought some more positive news, something to pull you out of your doldrums. We're working on another match—"

"Hell no!" I snapped.

"Watch your language." Dad frowned.

Despite my pounding head, I found myself once again shaking my head in amazement. "Absolutely not. You never cared for what I want. And frankly, I'm tired of you two trying to ruin my life. These ridiculous schemes. The charades. Finding a husband for me isn't about me, and you know it. It's about you. It's about what's good for you."

Mom straightened, her eyes blazing with emotion. "Young lady, I suggest that you calm down. It's not our fault that you embarrassed the family name yesterday—"

"I embarrassed the family name?" I asked, disbelieving. "You mean the family name that hangs around my neck like a noose?" I ignored my mother's gasp, but I was pissed and growing angrier by the moment. "I don't give a damn that my great-great whatever grandparents hitched a ride on the Mayflower. I'm tired of your machinations and you are behaving like we live in the eighteenth century! I will not be pushed into an arranged marriage! I don't need your help catching a husband, do you hear me?"

"Young lady," Dad said, his face turning red. "You have a certain obligation to marry well, to marry to the minimum of our standards, or better." He paused a moment, his features softening. "I know that you're upset about losing Daniel, but we'll find you another match, someone even better."

They weren't listening. They never listened. I stared at both of them, as if seeing them for the first time. I couldn't remember the last time that we had acted like a real family, without putting on airs, without trying to impress, no ulterior motives.

I knew something else too. I was tired of feeling like I was no better than a neurotic, insecure, and spoiled bitch. I reminded myself that I was not a child and I didn't need their approval. No, I didn't need their approval to do anything, even sleeping with a total stranger! I had done everything they'd asked me to do over the years, and where had it gotten me? A reputation of a spoiled bitch? Faking a suicide attempt? Standing up in the middle of a church ceremony shouting my head off, making a fool of myself? For what? Yesterday had been the final straw.

"No more."

"No more what, darling?" Mom asked.

Hands on my hips, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. "No more of your crazy matchmaking schemes. I can find my own husband. I want—"

"Darling, we're only trying to find you a match who understands the importance of appearances, with a certain business acumen, the ability to give you the things that you've grown up with and expect in your life."

"I know I've been spoiled, Mom. I know that you've ingrained in me the importance of stature and position, but right now, I'm telling you, I'm not interested in any man, any marriage, or even dating. I have some thinking to do."

Dad looked at me, a curious expression on his face. "What do you mean, you have some thinking to do?"

"It's time for me to figure out what I want from my life, not what you think I should have. I want—"

"Darling, don't be rash."

I garbled back a frustrated groan. "Rash? You don't call faking a suicide attempt or standing up and making a fool of myself in the middle of a wedding ceremony being rash?" I waved my hand at the air, carefully grasping my mug of coffee in the other. "I'm done with it, do you hear me? I'm done with it."

I saw the expression that crossed my mom's face as she glanced at my dad. She thought I was just being temperamental, but it was oh so much more than that. "If you don't mind, I have things to do this morning. I'll see you guys later, okay?"

They exchanged a glance and then with a shrug, my dad moved toward the door. Before they left, my mother paused in the open doorway, giving me what I called 'the look'.

"Now don't do anything foolish, honey." She admonished, then stepped outside the door. It closed softly behind her.

It took everything I had not to fling my coffee mug at the door. Foolish? Rash? Oh, I had already gone way beyond that.