“To bed, to sleep,” he says, his tone turning soft and careful.
“Oh.” I pout my lip. “That’s no fun.”
I may not be in any shape to engage in much more than collapsing onto the mattress, but hearing Noah’s plans to end the night chastely still prickles. We’re supposed to be playing a game, finding as many sordid moments together as we possibly can. But here stands cares-too-much Noah and his careful boundaries and I’m determined to undermine him. My feelings, real or imagined, are drowned in booze, makingthisthe perfect time to prove I can keep things physical.
Letting him respect me now is too close to the tender spot I’m trying to ignore.
We wobble into the house and into the bedroom, Noah flicking the light on before lowering me onto the waiting mattress. He loosens his tie as he digs through my duffle bag looking for something.
“Hey,” I groan, the room tilting under me. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to pilfer through a lady’s bag?”
“I’m just looking for some pajamas.”
“No need.”
I stand from the bed and keep my eyes trained on him as I slide the zipper of my dress down and slip my arm out of the sleeve. The emerald fabric pools at my feet leaving me bare except the thin silk thong hugging my hips. Noah straightens and swallows hard, his gaze running over every naked inch of me. I loop my thumbs under the thin strips of material at my hips and swish to wriggle out of the garment.
“Lottie.”
Desperate for an orgasm to erase my earlier show of weakness, I cross the space between us and slide my hands up under the lapels of his tux and then across his chest so I can hook my fingers under the line of buttons. With a quick jerk, I rip the shirt apart, giggling when the buttons ping across the room.Gayle’s going to be finding those for weeks.Noah fights a smile and I summon my coyest smirk.
“Are you sure you just wanna sleep?”
The last of my sentence is little more than a hiccup of sound, but I’m already pressing up on my tiptoes to try and wrap myself around him. His lips whisper against the corners of my mouth and then my nose as he walks us back clumsily towards the bed. Warmth pools between my legs as my thighs hit the mattress and I sink down, still tugging him with me and ready to give in.
“You are far too drunk to be asking this of me,” he says, scooping my legs up and tucking them under the blankets. My fingers are still curled around the loose edges of his shirt, but he gently plucks them off and lays my arms across my chest. “And I am far too sober to give into you, however much I may want to. I need you fully here when we’re together again. Anything less is unacceptable.”
I’m frowning now, partly upset at his refusal, but mostly because the room is still spinning and his face is blurring. He speaks again, but I only catch something about water and Tylenol before all I can see is his hazy form slipping out of the room.
My eyes flutter close and I’m left to the dark of an alcohol induced slumber.
The headache hits first, and then the annoyance of being woken up by the buzz of my phone on the nightstand; last is Noah pressed against me, his hands running soft rounds up and down my arm. My annoyance melts away entirely as he presses his face into the back of my hair and one of his hands slips down under the covers. It’s at this moment that I realize I am completely naked, but he is at least half dressed.
What the hell happened last night?
“Good morning,” he whispers, his hand tracing the same circles on my leg and teasing closer to where I’m starting to warm and crave his touch.
“It is morning.”
“Are you doing better?”
Eyes still closed, I frown. Last night is a cabernet soaked blur, only flashes of my near panic attack and our utility closet romp coming in full. Since I’m not sure what kind of better he’s asking about, I change directions.
“Was that the phone?”
“If it’s important, they’ll call again.”
“We have a job to do,” I remind, though I'm not sure why at this point. He’s clearly not in any rush to jump out of bed and his touch is serving as a delightful distraction from the throbbing in my head. If he’s not worried, then I shouldn’t be either.
“I’m not sure I’d call this a job,” he muses.
His hand finally makes contact with the pulse between my legs and I roll back into him, ready to let him finger fuck me out of this hangover. Figuring he’s right and anyone who needs me will call again, I slide my hand up and palm the back of his head, pulling his face closer to the length of my neck. He lines it with kisses as his hand traces down again.
And then my phone starts up once more.
“Shit.”
Noah shifts under the covers, his mouth trailing kisses lower and lower as I reach over to check who’s calling. Kara’s face blinks onto the screen and my stomach drops. It’s early for her to be calling. Too early. And twice in a row?
