My body’sbest efforts to remain in slumber are no match for the rays of the sun streaming in through our window. Millie’s obsessed with her blackout shades in the city, so a brightly lit room is the last thing I expect when I finally crack one eye open. Damn. I slam it shut again. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert, and as I lift my head to reposition myself, a bolt of pain shoots down my neck. When I settle again, my nose rubs up against something hard. Maybe my phone? Did I forget to plug it in last night? I use my fingers to walk my hand toward the object, but I’m met with the corded veins of a forearm instead.
What the?—
I blink my eyes open, though my left lid is glued shut, so it takes a moment for it to cooperate.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” a dreamy voice croons.
That’s it. I’m definitely dreaming. Why else would I be lying next tohim? Maybe if I doze off again, I’ll wake up later and find myself in my own hotel room.
I bury my face in my pillow, refusing to peek at my surroundings,but the feel of the bed dipping next to me proves I’m not dreaming.
Motherfucker.Not again.
Keeping my eyes closed, I run through the events of last night.
Pictures with Millie.
Karaoke.
Kissing Cam in his office.
Running out of his office.
Bumping into Millie and Ezra. (I’ll revisit that one later.)
Nik.
The raki.Damn that Grecian elixir.
If I’m in his bed, that must mean…
I bolt upright and throw off the covers, slapping my palms to my chest and abdomen. Okay, not naked. That’s good. Only I’m not in my own clothes. I pull at the soft black fabric clinging to my damp skin. I pat my thighs. No pants, but I’m still wearing underwear. That’s good too.
“You okay?” Cam taps my knee.
Am I? I rub my eyes and lick my lips, trying to reactivate my salivary glands. What the hell does my face look like right now? I need to find the bathroom.
I tumble out of bed, nearly dragging the duvet with me. The abrupt movement sends pain slicing through my head.
He calls my name, but I ignore him and make a beeline for the bathroom. Once I’m safely hidden in the tiled room, I throw the lock and step up to the mirror over the sink.
I look surprisinglynot repulsive.Huh. Though the red-rimmed eyes and smudged mascara aren’t exactly a good look. I moisten a washcloth under the faucet, then gently wash my face.
From there, I do something I’m not proud of. I borrow Cam’s toothbrush. Once I’ve brushed the grime from my teeth, I run myfingers through my hair, then toss back two full glasses of water from the tap. Feeling fifty percent more refreshed, I investigatedownstairs, rubbing a hand along the apex of my thighs. While there are no obvious signs of funny business, one can never be too sure.
Next, I pee, then rub a little soap under my armpits. I’m examining myself in the mirror again when Cam knocks on the door.
“Joey? Are you okay?”
Stomach roiling—from the raki, yes, but also because I freaking woke up in his bed—I open the door.
The sight before me makes my knees wobble. I throw my hands out to steady myself on the doorjamb and focus on breathing. Damn. He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts that sit low on his hips. His bare chest is toned, and he’s got that damn V that points right to his?—
My mouth is the opposite of dry now.
“Hmm?” is all I can muster up, though I do steady myself enough to take a step back. Standing so close to this man when he’s half-naked is nothing but dangerous.
His eyes glow behind his glasses. This is a sight I never thought I’d see again. And it’s one I should not be seeing right now. He props his elbow against the doorframe and rests his head against his hand. The move makes his tattooed bicep flex in a way that makes my core clench and my blood heat.
