He frowned at her. “What?”
“Mon…ster.” So her manners had gone out the window.
“Agnes, I’m being serious.”
She was, too. She was also increasingly awake, aware, and realizing…I have no idea how to handle a morning after with him. She’d been way too open and vulnerable with him during the hours of darkness. She hadn’t slept with anyone—like, actually slept in a bed with another human being—in years. And as far as the sex was concerned…
Years. It had been years.
Apparently, when she decided to jump back in the sex pool, she went straight for the deep end. Without any sort of floatation device.
She glanced down at herself. At least she was covered up. Mostly. “Is this the walk of shame portion of the event?”
“Agnes.”
“In the bright light of day…” Her voice wasn’t quite as husky, but she could seriously have used some coffee. “I don’t quite want to prance around naked in front of you.”
“Why the hell not?” Cass demanded. “I had my mouth on every inch of you last night.”
As if she needed the reminder.
She held out her hand. “Would you please pass my shirt to me?”
He did not. He did put a big sweatshirt in her extended hand. Big, black, soft.
“It’s cold outside,” he said gruffly. “That’s better than the thin shirt you wore last night. It will give you way more coverage.”
“Fine. I’ll, ah, bring it back to you.”
“Keep it.”
She sat up in bed, still clutching the shirt in her grasp. “Have you seen my panties?” Her voice was prim. How could she be prim when she asked about her panties? Yet, she was.
“They were ripped to pieces, sweetness.”
Oh, right, they had been. “And my bra?”
He dangled it from his fingertips. She snatched it from him and nearly fell from the bed.
A ghost of a smile lingered on his handsome lips. “I wish I was a different person,” he said.
Wait, what?
“Because in another life, I’d never, ever let you the hell out of my bed, Agnes Quinn.”
Had she just imagined those words?
“I’ll give you privacy to dress since you don’t want to be prancing around naked in front of me.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched for the door. “By the way, your purse is on the chair over here. Thought you might want it, so I got it out of the saddlebag for you this morning.” Cass shut the door after he exited.
She dressed. Quickly. With knees that shook and thighs that trembled. She put on her skirt, her bra, her shirt, and then his sweatshirt. His sweatshirt swallowed her, falling past the hem of her skirt. It was warm and carried a crisp, masculine scent. His scent. Wearing it was like being wrapped in him.
Nope. Stop the thought.
She put on her heels. Used his toothpaste on her finger for a quick brush and then tried to smooth down her wild hair. An utterly failed effort. Agnes grabbed her bag. Checked inside it. Yep, her gun and ID were there. Her phone, too. She used the phone to schedule a pickup with a rideshare driver, and then she dumped the phone back into her bag. After inhaling a few deep, steadying breaths, she hung the purse strap over one shoulder.
When she could hesitate no longer, she opened his door. She strode very purposely down his hallway. He was waiting in the kitchen. A very modern and gorgeous kitchen. One that had no sign of coffee. How did one even function without caffeine in the morning? What was he, superhuman?
He stared at her. She stared at him. She had to bite back the words, “Thank you for a very good time.” That was her wanting to be polite again, but she didn’t know if you were supposed to actually thank your one-night stand for all the orgasms that he’d given to you.
