My mind felt like a switchboard, warning lights pinging into existence as thoughts entered the atmosphere. I’d done it. I’d had sex with someone—someone who was not my husband.Because I didn’t have a husband, my brain quickly corrected before I could drift into that minefield.
I’d had sex.
And it had been amazing.
Now I was sitting alone as the air cooled my skin, wondering what came next. Would Jack want me to leave? Did friends with benefits cuddle? Was I allowed to stay over?
No, probably not. I should—I should leave before I made things weird.
Quickly, I hopped up from the bed, eyes searching the darkness for my dress on the floor. I’d just bent over and gathered it in my arms when the light clicked on across the hall. I froze like one of those cartoon prisoners during a jailbreak.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the sudden brightness, so I couldn’t confirm, but I was relatively sure I heard amusement in his voice.
Squinting and blinking, I straightened, using the fabric of my dress to cover my nearly naked front. “Um, well ...”
Jack was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, arms crossed and silhouette backlit. I could make out the laughing tilt of his lips, the arch of one expectant eyebrow, practically saying,This ought to be good.
I could also see that he was completely nude. He had a full sleeve of tattoos on one arm that I was eager to explore in the light of day. But despite my best effort, my eyes dipped below his waist, confirming what I’d only felt earlier. He was so beautiful. Lean and strong. Wide shoulders with narrow hips, and his penis was?—
“Bonnie,” he said, definitely entertained.
My eyes jumped to his face as a guilty flush worked its way up my neck.
“What are you doing?” he asked again, stepping into the room and within touching distance.
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to shake off the lust and the instinct to ogle and objectify. He was just so aggressively handsome.
“I don’t know,” I admitted with a humorless laugh. “Should I leave? Am I supposed to leave? I don’t know how to do this.”
Warm hands enveloped my upper arms as he stroked leisurely up and down. “You should only leave if you want to.” His hazel eyes sparkled before he leaned in and placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “But I think”—another kiss beneath my jaw—“you should stay.” Then he gave a gentle bite to my earlobe. “Because I’m just getting started.”
It was morning before I wanted it to be, my limbs heavy with exhaustion and my mind well rested for once. As I blinked groggily, pale morning light brought the nearly unfamiliar room into focus and, along with it, a sudden awareness.
Clutching the covers to my naked chest, I sat up quickly as soreness registered in my muscles. The kind of ache that reminded me of multiple orgasms and the man very much not in bed beside me.
At least this time, I didn’t have the hangover from hell.
I took in the room, noting things I hadn’t on my previous visit. The basic white walls, the tidy, spartan space that hadn’t really absorbed the personality of its owner. The framed paintings were a bit out of place. Jack didn’t strike me as a watercolor landscape sort of guy. But I’d learned not to assume things about people and their hobbies. After participating in and teaching summer art courses over the years, I knew that talent could be found in the unlikeliest of places.
My eyes drifted to the foot of the bed, where a shaft of sunlight spread across the quilt, highlighting my dress and underthings neatly folded and waiting for me. I grinned, my hand rising on instinct to cover the gap in my teeth.
I figured I should probably get dressed and figure out how awkward this morning after was going to be. A few minutes later, I’d smoothed my wrinkled dress down my legs and finger combed my short hair into something resembling order.
With a peek around the doorframe, I found Jack in the same chair he’d occupied the first time I’d snuck out of his bedroom. There he sat with another book—this one a paperback—and a cup of coffee, reading glasses on and feet once again bare.
My stomach did a little back handspring and stuck the landing.
“Hi,” he said, his lips looking like they were on their way to a smile. Like maybe he was comparing the last time we’d been in this situation, too.
“Hi,” I returned, stepping fully into the hallway.
“Come have coffee with me,” he invited.
My feet were already moving. “Okay.”
“Your mug is on the counter.”
Something about the casual words and the ease with which he’d delivered them had my mind stuttering to a stop. My toes nearly tripped me up as my steps faltered momentarily on my way into the kitchen.
