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Fuck it. If you do something stupid, own it. I push up on an elbow, and my knotty hair falls over my shoulder. “Sexy, right?”
“Very.”
“Especially the way I curved and moved.”
“Not to mention the kiss.”
I manage to keep my expression neutral. “Ah, yes, well that was in a league of its own.”
“Entirely.” If he smiles any wider, his ears won’t fit on his head.
The corners of my lips twist up into a lopsided grin. “So, before last night, you were a total virgin, am I right?”
“For that particular scenario, yes. I can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that.”
Score for Kerry! Be unforgettable, by choice or by accident. It’s all the same in the end. I’m the crazy chick. “I can’t say I remember doing that either.”
“Mmmm.” That sound is close to a purr in the back of this throat. “Good. I like that I’m the only one who’s seen you flying your freak flag.”
“That was nothing. There’s all sorts of crazy crap going on up here.” I tap the side of my head and wince.
“Seriously, though. It was like a sexy Cirque du Soleil performance… with socks.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. So last night may have taken an unexpected turn. I remember heading to his bedroom and ditching my sweatpants after seeing a pair of his argyle socks on the dresser. While these actions aren’t logical to a sober person, my drunken self considered it totally normal. I might have pulled on a pair and tugged those suckers up to my knees, then started dancing around the room. I moved like a ballerina with no pants and no gloves, wearing only panties, a bra, and my t-s
hirt.
“Ah, yes. Well, you can’t dance without a pair of kickass gloves.” For some reason gloves were very important, so I ditched my shirt (because that makes sense), and pulled on a second pair of his polka dot socks over my hands and up my arms. They were my opera gloves. I was very proud.
“Obviously.” He grins so hard a dimple appears on his cheek. It’s impossibly sexy and sweet. The man is hot and I was dancing through his room, plastered. “The puppet show was really something. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed watching a girl kiss a sock before.”
Oh, God. I forgot about that part. Mortified I try to slide under the sheets, but Nate kneels on the floor next to the bed and peers underneath.
“Actually, I’ve never wanted to be a sock so much in my life.” His dark hair falls in his eyes as he smiles at me.
“He got more action than you.”
“By far.”
“I made out with your socks and then passed out on your bed?” It’s a question because the night gets super fuzzy after that.
“You did.”
My eyes cut to the side and then back to his beautiful face. “And you’d like me to leave now?”
“Hell, no. That was the most amazing evening I’ve had in a long time.”
I laugh lightly. “Dude, you need to get out more.”
Nate pulls back the sheet and sits on the edge of the bed. “You need to let your freak flag fly a little more frequently. You’re like a repressed schoolgirl who never did anything bad.”
I avoid his gaze and play with the hem of the sheet. “That’s a fairly accurate statement.”
“I like sexy sock girl.”
I grin sheepishly and tease, “You would.”
Nate places his hands on either side of my head and leans in close. His lips linger just above mine as he watches me. “Want to do something crazy?”
