"Let's get out of here," I said, brushing her hair over her ears. I cut quick glances around us, and found the spot where Dorrance once stood vacant.Thank fuck. I didn't need another conversation about creative constipation or an invitation to board her nudes-and-weed boat. "I want to take you on anadventure."
ChapterFifteen
Alexandra
Afew minutes.That was all I needed. Just needed a few minutes alone with my thoughts and my wafflesbecausewhoa.
I couldn't stand without my legs wobblingbeneathme.
The simple act of sitting wasn't even that simple because my thighs were stillquivering. I'd never had occasion to properly quiver before, and I had to say it was pleasantlyuncomfortable.
I was aching in ways I hadn't thought possible, but much like the quivering, it wasn't the worst thing I'd everexperienced.
Oh, and then there were the bite marks. Bite. Marks. Onmybody.
How I'd managed to scavenge for some clothes in the wreckage that was our room and make it downstairs in one piece was still a mystery. Apparently orgasms from Riley came with a collection ofsuperpowers.
The only thing he hadn't fucked out of me was the hangover. I had a headache that throbbed in five different spots, one for each form of alcohol I'd consumed last night. Wine, beer, vodka, champagne—where the fuck did I leave my good decision making?—and whiskey. Who told me that I could drink whiskey? So muchwhiskey.
And now I needed some time and several waffles to get myself in order. Although noon didn't technically qualify as morning.Goddamn it.When had we finally fallen asleep? After the time against the door, or after the time bent over the footboard?Ahh.Last night, it wasallhazy.
When I'd woken up beside all six-and-a-half naked feet of him, I knew I needed to get the fuck out of that bed. Not because I was embarrassed or regretful or couldn't deal, but because I'd desperately needed to pee. Once I was behind the closed door of the bathroom and the mirror revealed the wreath of faint bruises around my breasts and belly, I knew I required some time to put my world back inorder.
This wasn't the kind of sex that I had…ever. And there'd been a lot of it, too. More sex than I'd believed any two people could have in one night. I was going to be limpingthisweek.
But the specifics of last night, I couldn't reach them. It was like everything from that kiss in the museum to this morning—err, afternoon—was hiding under a thick layer of burlap, all indistinguishable lumps and bumps and boob bites. There were places and moments and words—oh, those words—but the double trouble of liquor and orgasms pushed everything else into afuzzyblur.
So here I was, demolishing a few Belgian waffles and driving myself crazy with questions about lastnight.
Where did we go? What happened between us? What did we do? Whatdidn'twe do? Were there condoms? I don't remember any condoms. Whathappensnow?
It was a full hour before Riley ambled down the stairs and into the dining room. He was freshly showered and wearing an expression somewhere between deer-in-headlights and hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar.
"Hey," he said, running his fingers through his damp hair without meeting my eyes. "Goodmorning."
I was no better with my eyes glued to the bacon-syrup-waffle-more-waffle carnage on my plate, but it still stung that he wouldn't look at me. "Yeah, good morning," I said. "How are youdoing?"
Riley laughed, dropping into the chair across from me. With the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes, he groaned. "Uh, okay, I guess. I've beenbetter."
If there was a list of the wrong things to say after drunkenly having sex with your maybe-fake-but-maybe-real girlfriend, that response would be on it. My stomach dropped right to the floor, and I could almost hear the slipperythunkas it rolled around under thetable.
Shit.Just…shit.
MaybeIwasn't embarrassed or regretful or having troubling dealing with this, but Riley was. And I fuckinghatedthat.
Here I was, thinking he'd been serious about wanting me—and wanting me for more than one wild night—but that wasn't the case. Nope, he'd wanted to get drunk and fuck away his weird Dorrance hang-up, and I'd been in the right place at therighttime.
Once again, I was the fool. The one with the willful blindness and the undying desire to be wanted. That was it, all I needed. Just to be the girl someone chose. The one wanted more than anyother.
And once again, I wasn't that girl. Every time I'd wound up in this spot, I promised myself that I'd stop trying so hard. Stop begging for scraps. Stop looking for affection, validation, love. I was going to let it all come to me because I knew I couldn't force anyone. I knew because I'd tried countless times before. My parents, my brother, every one of my previousboyfriends.
And I'd tried. I'd really tried with Riley. Despite it all, I was sitting across from a man who'd said some of the filthiest, naughtiest, most amazing words ever uttered between the sheets a handful of hours ago, andhe's been better. That wasn't the kind of statement associated with beingwanted.
An eternity passed before Riley unfolded himself from his chair and shuffled over to the buffet. He returned with a plate piled high with every remaining item—eggs, bacon, waffles, fruit, all of it—and promptly submerged it in maplesyrup.
There was a quip ready on my tongue, but I held it, not trusting this new version of us with our vintage banter. Instead, I snuck glances at him while he inhaled his breakfast. All told, it wasn't more than ten minutes, but it dragged on like anunendinghour.
"Hey. So…" Riley set his fork down and propped his chin on his clasped hands, and turned his full attention toward me for the first time. "Would you mind heading home early? I have—uh—a client who is waiting on an updated proposal from me, and I n-n-n-need Matt to look over the structural elements before I can senditout."
