If she was sober, Rachel would feel horrible for using Sam this way. To feel good. To feel beautiful and wanted the way she's been seeking her whole life (and it just seems like she's always tied up when the guy who wants to be that for her rolls around), the way Bradley's failing to make her feel right now. But she's not sober. At all.

She's achy, head still fuzzy with vodka and orgasm as he finally relaxes against her. She sighs and tucks her ankles back together at his lower and hums, pressing her face against the crook of his neck. "Sam..."