Rylan bringing her a bottle of water?
When was that?
Where was that?
Where was she now?
It felt like a bed. Hopefully, it was her bed.
“Morning.”
She’d like to say her eyes snapped open, and her head swung toward the voice—and yes, that was Rylan’s voice—but that’s not what happened. She could barely crack her eyelids without fire engulfing her eyeballs and shards of steel piercing her brain, never mind turn her head.
The chuckle behind her did not help her mood. Although the words that followed it piqued her interest. “I made coffee.”
Mazey wasn’t sure what it was she said next. In her head, it sounded like “thanks” but what came out was possibly an ancient language not spoken in thousands of years.
Rylan outright laughed this time, and she wanted to punch him. Shame her body wasn’t up to that level of physical activity. Or any activity. “Let me help you sit up and put the mug in your hands.”
The bed dipped beside her, and she finally, finally, cracked her eyes a sliver more than a smidge. Focusing became her next big trick. Good thing she wasn’t a magician. All she could see was a wall of black. Frowning, she managed to move her head, and that’s when everything snapped.
Her eyes widened, her body jolted, and her mouth dropped open.
The wall of black was topped with a row of ridges the color of coffee. Sweet, sweet cream and vanilla laced coffee. Except there, right down the center was a trail of swirly dark hair. She wasn’t sure what the sound was that left her throat. Pain? A word? Arousal?
“You all right?” Rylan asked.
All right? What woman wouldn’t be all right with a hot guy sitting in her bed in his boxer briefs first thing in the morning.
Oh god!
He was naked. From the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, the only thing covering Rylan Conners was taut skin she wanted to lick, smatterings of dark hair her fingers itched to comb through, and a pair of tight black briefs that left nothing to the imagination.
Nothing.
“I, ah, um,” she stammered, unsure what it was she was trying to say. There was a question forming, she was sure of it.
But her brain wouldn’t work. All she could think about was Rylan.
Naked.
In her bed.
She’d had sex with Rylan Conners, and she didn’t remember any of it!
They’d had sex, right? Why else would he be here? In his underwear! In her bed!
“Here. Take this, and I’ll get breakfast started.”
He picked up her hand and wrapped it around the warm mug, repeating the action with her other hand before standing up. A strangled choking sound gurgled in her throat.
“Are you going to be sick?” He frowned down at her.
Shaking her head, because her tongue still couldn’t form words, she swallowed hard and hoped something from last night came back to her.
A kiss. A touch. Anything.
“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
