12
CHARLI
My eyelids flickered opento a dim room, and I groaned, the need to pee paramount. I rolled off the bed and stumbled for the bathroom, so sure my tongue had grown fur. And my head felt a little fuzzy, like wool had settled inside. Thankfully, no headache.
I grasped the doorframe, frowning down at myself in my…bra and panties? Usually, I wore my boxer shorts and a tank to bed, not this. So, how—?
Shaking my foggy head didn’t release the info I needed. Sighing, I shut the door.
A short while later, teeth and tongue scoured, I stood under the shower and groaned as the grogginess and lethargy drained away, and when my skin felt pruned enough, I stumbled out.
Coffee. I badly needed the caffeine boost to kick-start my brain and get rid of this sluggishness.
Gripping my hair in a messy bun, I dressed in shorts and a loose, light blue t-shirt that was determined to slide off one shoulder, then I grabbed my cell from the bedside table and made my way through the silent apartment.
Aw, crap. I winced, the early morning sunlight streaming through the spacious living room windows almost blinding me. The coffee-fragrant air kept me pushing forward, but then I faltered to a halt near the couch, my heart careening in my chest.
Shirtless, War stood barefoot near the long isle in the kitchen, reading something on his cell and sipping his coffee. His gray sweats rode low on his hips, revealing all those cut slabs of muscles and the tantalizing V going down to his groin.
Oh, man. With all that temptation in front of me, desire slid through my veins like molasses, coiling low in my core. Yup, my body knew exactly what it wanted, even if my head was in slo-mo this morning.
“Morning,” I grumbled because there darn well wasn’t anythinggoodabout it, well, except for him.
I shuffled across the massive living room, past the dining area to the kitchen, needing my nirvana. And more, trying not to look at so much perfection—clad only in sweats outlining the length of his sex clearly—so early in the morning when I still felt like roadkill.
What the heck did I do last night besides drink too much?
Ugh, not wanting to tax my slow-functioning brain as to why I had done so, I passed him. Warm fingers gripped my upper arm.
“Sit,” he said, turning me to the counter stool. “I’ll get coffee.”
“Thank you.” I collapsed gratefully on the seat, securing my bare feet around the foot bar.
“How’s the head?” he asked.
“Okay…” My eyes latched onto a Post-it with a message stuck on the counter, and I peered at it.
Gone for a run, in case you’re wondering where I am.W.
Aw, man. What time was it? I fumbled for my cell from my shorts pocket. 8:25 a.m.
“Here.” War set the mug down.
My phone clattered to the counter. I grabbed the cup, took a deep, fortifying sip, and groaned. A half mug later, my sanity started to trickle back, and I sighed. “I must have drunk the bar dry last night.”
“No, just both of Jack’s vodkas,” War helpfully enlightened me.
“I was being flippant,” I mumbled like it needed clarification.
“I know.” His eyes twinkled. “It begs the question, why?”
“You probably did something to irritate me.” I rubbed my dull, foggy temples.
“I wish I could take credit for this.” He picked up his mug again. “But Ray said to be sure you checked your messages this morning.”
I blinked at him like an owl. At his barely concealed amusement, I dove for my cell again.
Oh, no, no, no! What did I do?
