“Calm down,” Ted says, still in that rough voice.
I can’t calm down. I woke up in a stranger’s bed AGAIN. Except this time, we fucked.
That’s crazy. I don’t even LIKE him.
I dive under the covers, struggling to pull up my panties and shorts. His sheets are the softest things I’ve ever felt. Faelords, why does it smell so good in his bed? Unlike the other bedrooms, this one is clean—a surprising quality for a mountain man like him. The scent of cedar and pine fills my nose—subtle, but distinctly masculine, reminding me of the great outdoors.
And sex. It smells like our sex, which up until two minutes ago was completely intoxicating.
I’m an idiot. He told me to leave, and I didn’t. Even after I swore off men. Even though I hate Ted.
Well not hate anymore, but strongly dislike.
I huff out more words, unable to stop the stream of consciousness from spilling out. “She said it could be my diet. I’ve been living on oatmeal for weeks, so it could be that. Or the stress of men at my work treating me like some gold-dipped prize. Or the housework is getting to me. Maybe if I could afford some air conditioning units, I’d sleep better. I’m melting to death every damn day. My gods do you even know how big that house is? Fixing it is going to break my body or my bank. I’m not sure which first.”
Something at the back of my mind was telling me to shut up, but it was such an unusual instinct it came out as a quiet whisper, easily smashed back down as I let my neurosis fly. He fucked the sense out of me.
Emerging from under the covers, my hair flies around me in a static mess. “And I amnottrying to break in. Believe me. Youhaveto believe me,” I beg.
Ted stands there in only a pair of boxers with sexy tousled hair, studying me like I'm either some kind of psycho, or maybe a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.
Thoughts tumble through my brain and while a lot of them are panicked, the other half is taking in Ted’s form. There is still an imprint of his hot, muscular form pressed against mine. Thick tree trunk thighs and his burly arms and chest affect me more than I care to admit. There is some natural and honest about his form, as if he spends all his time as a lumberjack. I’d know. I watch enough videos online.
And now I know how it feels against mine. My fingers tunneled through the black hair dusting his chest. And those scowling lips, my god, why do they fit mine so fucking well? They worked my lips and skin in ways I wouldn’t think a man of his kind to be capable. My thighs clench together. Regardless of how I feel about him, my body has very strong opinions about his presence.
What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t still be ogling my mean neighbor after he regrets my being in his bed.
Even if he is occasionally helpful, nice, and makes me come like a freight train. Frustration swells so suddenly it presses against my ribs uncomfortably.
Against my will, tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision.
His expression softens as he reaches out with a hand. “Please don’t cry. I believe you,” he says finally.
I shake my head adamantly even as tears spill over my eyelid. “I’m not crying.”
“I’m sorry,”is what he said, but he didn’t finish after that. Honestly, I don’t need him too.
I'm sorry I fucked you. I’m sorry we did what we did. I’m sorry you may think this is more than it is.
I don’t know what he is sorry for, but it doesn’t matter. Any one of them still means this was a mistake he regrets.
It shouldn’t affect me so much, it’s just that I’m still in his bed, and I don’t like sleepwalking.
Ted takes a few steps toward me. I pull the comforter up over my chest, clutching it to me.
“I’m sorry. I should have used a condom, but I don’t have any because I’m not. . . ” his hands open and then close. “I didn’t expect this.”
And I didn’t expectthatto be what he was sorry for.
I pull the comforter even closer. Oh for faefucks sake, I’m an idiot and didn’t even think about that. I transitioned from dreamland and rolled right into pound town and there wasn’t enough of a gap to afford that sliver of reality. Thank the faelords one of us possesses a bit of sense, accounting for why he pulled out.
“I don’t have anything. . . I mean to say I haven’t been with uh. . . ”
It’s strange to see Ted so flustered, tripping over his words.
“I’m clean too,” I say quietly. I get checked regularly. I’ve always been safe about it. Until now that is.
Ted’s shoulders roll back, and he straightens, seeming to find his confidence again. “Here is what’s going to happen,” he says, taking charge. “I’m going to go downstairs, and you are going to take a minute to yourself. Come down when you feel ready and then we’ll discuss this.”
