Nate’s answering grin was wicked, and Lexie had a feeling this was about to be a lot more trouble than it was worth.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.
They made a mad dash for the door, sneaking past Brent and Berkley, who were standing at the bar waiting for drinks. But they’d discover soon enough that both Lexie and Nate were missing, and would eventually draw the conclusion that they had left together.
It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were doing.
Once ensconced in a cab on the way to her place, Lexie couldn’t help remembering how much different this felt than that first night with Mitch. With him, it had been frantic groping, unable to keep her hands or lips to herself, acting every bit like a teenager trying to sneak in a quickie before her parents came home. The draw to him. How that big body, those kind green eyes, and killer smile pulled her in like a magnet.
Whatever this thing with Nate was, it would surely be nothing like that. For starters, she didn’t feel compelled to make out with him in the backseat of a taxi.
When they arrived at her apartment, there was no urgency to get upstairs, no near-suffocating tension between them as they stood on opposite sides of the elevator. Nate certainly didn’t lift her off her feet and press her into the wall outside her door, so hungry for her that he couldn’t even wait until they were inside.
No, Nate stood next to her like a gentleman, patiently waiting as she punched in her code and turned the knob. As she shed her coat and hung it in the closet. As she kicked off her Converse and padded barefoot down the hall into the kitchen. As she pulled out yet another bottle of tequila from the freezer—what could she say, she stayed well-stocked—and poured them each a shot.
Through it all, Nate followed her, those bright blue eyes tracking every movement. It struck her then how strange it was to have a man that wasn’t Mitch in her home. It felt…wrong.
Hell, she still had some of Mitch’s clothes in a damn drawer, his razor on her bathroom counter, and body wash in the shower.
And yet, she hadn’t been able to get out of her own way long enough to fight for them.
God, she was so stupid.
Another shot of tequila chased that thought away.
Now was not the time. He might not be blond, green-eyed, or built like a linebacker, but Nate was a man who was here with her. Who, if the bulge in his jeans was any indication,wantedher.
For right now, that was enough.
Sex, after all, was all she could give someone right now.
It had been all she thought she could give Mitch, too, and look how that turned out.
Stop it, Alexandra.
So when Nate moved around the counter to stand next to her, and dropped his mouth to hers, if she couldn’t stop herself from imagining that big-bodied blond who had shattered her heart in a thousand pieces instead of the trim brunette in front of her, well…no one had to know but her.
Waking the next morning was like swimming to the surface after a deep plunge into the water. Slowly, everything became clearer and sharper, until suddenly, she was breaking the surface of consciousness.
Eyes still closed, she snuggled into the warm body next to her, trailing her fingers over the forearm, lightly dusted with soft hair, that was thrown casually over her waist, thankful Mitch had chosen to stay the night.
The last few days had to have been a highly vivid nightmare.
“Morning,” he said, and Lexie stiffened.
Definitelynota nightmare. And definitelynotMitch.
The events of the day and night before came rushing back, and Lexie choked on a breath, the influx of emotions nearly ripping a sob from her throat. She took several deep breaths and said, “Morning, Nate.”
She hopped out of bed, staggering a bit as she got her hangover legs under her, and scrounged around on the floor for something, anything, to cover her naked body with. She found an oversized Warriors tee—which had once belonged to Mitch—and slipped it over her head.
Then she turned to survey the damage.
Nate turned onto his side and propped his head up on one hand, a lazy, satisfied grin settling on his lips. Lexie blinked, shaking her head. He looked so much like Brent at that moment that Lexie suddenly understood why he and Berkley spent so much time in bed.
It was also incredibly disconcerting because…ew, she had zero desire to bed Brent Jean.
Just his brother,her bitch of a conscience reminded her.
