Unless…
Her face went from hot to burning as fragmented memories returned.She remembered a hand on her leg…a hand that had been under her skirt.She remembered being picked up and carried to bed.She remembered a kiss.Her breath caught in her throat.She remembered a kiss that had made her toes curl in her shoes and her nipples dig into the cups of her bra.
She’d made out with…
Oh God!
She looked up and found dark eyes watching her, dark hair that was mussed, lips that looked ready to kiss her again…
Rowe?She was in bed with Cameron Rowe?
She surged upright, sitting straight up on the…foldout couch?Pain rocketed through her head, and she gasped.She pressed her hands against her temples in a vain attempt to hold her skull together.
“Easy.”
It was Cam, all right.She recognized the voice, and she recognized her reaction to it.Shivers danced across her skin, but this wasn’t right.Where was she?Her headache rang.How had she ended up on a foldout couch with this man?The world’s most uncomfortable foldout couch, nonetheless?
“What happened?”she groaned.
“You had too much to drink.”
Drink?She didn’t drink.
He rubbed her back in comforting circles.Half of her struggled to move farther away, but the other half was in too much pain.Besides, the warm touch was the one good thing she was feeling, even if the hand was connected to the arm connected to the shoulder connected to…him.She couldn’t believe she’d slept with the hatchet man.
They had just slept, hadn’t they?
Her sluggish thoughts ping-ponged around in her hurting head.She couldn’t remember doing anything more.She’d remember doing something more, wouldn’t she?With him?Her lungs began working hard as the kiss in the bar became clearer.She could still feel the press of his body.She could taste his hungry lips and sense the responding ache low in her belly.
“Stop thinking so much.”His morning voice was low and sexy.“Everything’s all right.”
All right?As desperately as she tried to remember last night, it remained fuzzy.She peeked open her eyes.She was still dressed…or half-dressed.The sleepwear her sister had given her didn’t leave much to the imagination.
Her sister?
Roxie!
The billboard.The Ruckus.Her twin.
Lexie’s head snapped towards the bedroom, and the wall wavered before coming into focus.Memories started flooding back in—at least she hoped they were memories.Alcohol couldn’t have caused such vivid dreams, could it?She couldn’t have made up such an outrageous story.She listened carefully, but she didn’t hear anything coming from the bedroom.She couldn’t sense anyone else in the place but her and Cam.
And she sensed everything about him.
He continued stroking her back.“Are you all right?”
“I feel like I’ve been steamrollered.”
“That would be the bourbon.”
She risked looking over her shoulder at him.The sight made her belly squeeze in an uncomfortably pleasant way.Oh, damn.Sex on a stick was right.
He was wickedly inviting, lying back against the white sheets.His one hand was reached out to touch her, but the other was tucked behind his head on the plump pillow.He looked big and tanned, muscled and lazy—like a hunk you’d find on the centerfold of a naughty magazine.
Or a naughty billboard.
Oh this was not good.
Lexie pushed at the covers.
