I headed to my bathroom, still sleep deprived, and took care of business. When I finally walked out and flipped off the light, I had brushed my teeth and my hair. I didn’t do messy.
Leaning on the door frame, looking at him on my bed, I debated how wise it would be to lie back down next to him. I could sit on the edge and talk to him, or I could have him back in my arms like he’d been all night. He’d sat at the bar through Game 6 of the World Series, waiting for a chance to talk to me. If I’d taken ten minutes to comply, maybe he wouldn’t be here like this.
No matter what I chose, I had to get him some ibuprofen andGatorade. Padding quietly to my kitchen, I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the drink, then grabbed the bottle of pain medicine out of the cabinet.
It wasn’t lost on me that I had a gorgeous man spread out in my bed. No matter how I chose to handle the situation, Preston was going to reel me in like a fish on a hook. And if I were honest, I wanted that more than ever. But I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, and if I had to choose between him and the job, the job was the safest thing for my heart.
Preston James was the second person who I knew could break my heart, and I had to decide whether the risk was one I was willing to take.
Armed with ibuprofen and liquid hydration, I padded back into my bedroom to find him hugging my pillow. He was uninhibited when he was drunk, and I wondered if he’d been speaking with his heart when he spouted all that at me.
I made my choice and sat back down on the bed next to him. I studied him for a moment, taking in how classically handsome he was before I had to touch him. Running my fingers through his head of thick, dark brown hair and my thumb over his super-stubbly chiseled jaw, Preston leaned into my touch.
The first time I met him, I thought he was a grumpy, rude asshole. But now I knew the real truth about Preston James. He was a sweet and attentive man who could kiss like it was his job. And evidently, I wanted him to hire me as his practice dummy.
I continued to massage his scalp with my fingers to wake him up. When he could hold his eyes open long enough to take in our state of dress, he frowned.
“Why aren’t we naked?”
I laughed at his absurd observation as I smoothed his furrowed brow with my thumb. “Do you remember anything from last night?”
Preston furrowed his brow again. “I remember being at the bar, waiting to talk to you.”
“That’s right. Anything else?”
He gazed at me as he tried to remember. “I could remember more if you were lying down here with me.”
Fuck, he was cute. “Really? You think that would help?”
He nodded like a little boy. “And it would help if we were naked. All these clothes are constricting the blood flow to my brain and giving me a headache.”
I curled my lips in to stifle my smile, but I gave up. I knew I was too far gone for him already, and depending on what he said about Jesse Evans, I’d be back in his arms in a heartbeat. His glowering stare did it for me.
“Why do you want to be naked so badly, Preston? I can give you something for the headache.”
His eyes widened painfully. “A blow job?” He started for the button on his pants.
“You wish,” I laughed as I put my hand over his to stop him from disrobing. “Ibuprofen andGatorade.”
Preston rolled his eyes, and evidently that hurt if his groan was any indication. Shifting his body to sit up, his ease of movements was limited by the friction of my comforter. He was struggling, and I couldn’t let that happen.
“Okay, take off your pants. I’ll be back in a minute.” I stood from the bed and went to move to my bathroom. I looked back over at where he was laid out flat, trying to take his pants off. “Do you want some pajama pants to put on? I’m gonna change into shorts.”
“Nah,” he muttered. “I wear boxer briefs. That’s almost like shorts.”
Normally, I would have agreed. But when I returned a few minutes later, he had removed all his clothes except for said boxer briefs. I swept my wide eyes over his sculpted body and released an unintended whimper.
Preston was stretched out over my light gray sheets with his eyes closed, messy hair on my pillow, and that unforgettable stubbled jaw flexing as he clenched his jaw from what I suspected was quite a headache. Both arms were tucked under his head, leaving his biceps there for the staring.His chest and all his ripped abdominal muscles were on display for me, and I wanted to straddle him and run my tongue over every dip and valley.
The snug black cotton fit him like a glove as it wrapped around his muscular thighs. And the package inside was evident through the thin material. Did he dress like this every day?
I looked down at myself in navy blue basketball shorts and a worn out Oregon State t-shirt. Feelings of inadequacy tried to wash over me, but I pushed them away when I looked up to find Preston staring at me with hooded eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered and held his hand out to me.
I went willingly to him, but handed him the open bottle ofGatoradeand two ibuprofen before I sat down. When he’d taken the pills and drank half the bottle, I took it from him and screwed the lid back on.
“We need to talk,” I said, shifting to sit on the bed, facing him.
