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And on that note, I realize I need to get out of here as soon as possible before I look too pathetic. I imagine he’ll be waking soon and wondering why I’m still in his bed, and I’m pretty sure Blake isn’t the type to invite his conquests to stay for brunch.
There’s only one problem: I’m stuck here on foot. Who can I possibly get to pick me up and bring me back to my car, which is … at Tenley’s mom’s house, I think?
Shit.
I begin the slow process of inching toward the edge of the bed like an awkward starfish, desperately hoping to avoid waking him up. I’ve almost made it out from under his hand when Blake lets out a deep growl and reinforces his hold on me. Then he rolls to his side and uses his forearm to pull me in until my back rests against his chest.
I panic and accidentally squeak as he curls his warm body around mine, pressing himself against me. My breathing quickens, and heat swirls inside as I try to convince myself that relaxing into him would be a terrible idea. Truly horrible. Self-destruction at its finest.
His lips find the back of my neck, and my limbs get all tingly. And my resolve is melting away faster than the One Ring in the fires of Mount Doom.
My hips have begun moving of their own accord when I spot our clothes lying on the floor. How many women have been exactly where I am now? I bet none of them have entire arguments with themselves and makeLOTRreferences in his bed. But I’m not like the other women, and I don’t know what I’m still doing here.
This was obviously a mistake. In fact, I’m sure I’ll laugh about it later. Maybe Blake and I will even laugh about it together.
Despite the allusions to Mordor, I am a rational adult, I remind myself. I work up the courage to speak up before he attempts anything else sexy enough to cloud my judgment again.
“Um, Blake?”
“Hmm?” he replies in a sleepy voice. Then he lifts the arm holding me against him, probably having just realized the identity of his newest cuddle buddy, and he scoots back, putting some space between us. And although I try not to take his reaction personally, because I am seriously okay with the fact that we’re never going to be a couple or even normal friends, it still stings, just a little.
“Loren,” he rasps as I twist around to face him. “I’m sorry.”
“Yep,” I say, a bit too heavy on thePat the end. Because I’m the most awkward human on the planet. “It’s me. Loren. Loren Reed.”
He exhales. “I’ve known you since we were five. I haven’t forgotten your full name or what you look like, especially since last night,Agnes.”
“Right,” I cringe at his mention of my middle name. “Because now I suppose youreallyknow me. In the Biblical sense.”
He snorts but doesn’t say anything for a minute as he rolls onto his back, rubbing his hands over his face in disbelief.
I know the feeling, dude.
Then he clears his throat. “Are you, um, all right?”
My heart melts a little as he glances over at me with a look of genuine concern. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just peachy.”
His eyes dart down to the outline of my backside under the covers as the corner of his mouth turns up in a mischievous smirk. “Peachy, huh?”
“Sorry. Too soon?” My face heats up in embarrassment. I have to get out of here, STAT. “Look, I hate to ask, but the only other people I’d trust to find me here and not blab about this to all of Camellia are most likely in a similar predicament, though they are not to be interrupted under any circumstances. Would you mind bringing me back to my car?”
A frown overtakes his features. “Yeah. Of course.” Then he glares up at the ceiling, seemingly in deep thought. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he says after a while.
He sits up in bed, and I can’t help but stare as the sheets pool around his waist, his pristine abs on full display. He glares at me expectantly until I get the hint and avert my eyes. The bed shifts as he stands, and there’s a light snap from an elastic waistband as he presumably slips on his underwear. I finally venture to look his way again, just as he sets my clothes down in front of me.
“There should be a fresh toothbrush under the bathroom sink. Take your time,” he says, his tone dry as he walks out of the room and shuts the door behind him.
I scurry over to the immaculately clean en suite, stopping to admire the amazing bathtub sitting under the window. I bet it goes unused. Blake’s definitely a shower kind of guy.
After finding an unopened toothbrush in the cabinet, I do my best to freshen up and redress, even though I can’t get the zipper of my bridesmaid dress all the way up on my own. I venture out to find my host sipping a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He’s giving broody male-model vibes in jeans and a hoodie.
“Wow. That smells amazing right now,” I accidentally blurt out.
“Help yourself.” He points to the coffeemaker and the rack of pods. “Cups are in the cabinet on top.”
I turn toward the counter when I remember my dress is still unzipped. “Oh, um, would you mind?” I ask, pointing to the back of my dress.
He sets his mug down before he walks over silently. Then he pushes my hair to the side and drags the zipper up, his touch making me shiver.
