Page 4 of Unstable

TWO

Before she even opened her eyes, she was aware of a bitter taste in her mouth, the cottony feeling like she’d had too much to drink. She cracked one eye open, squinting against the bright sunlight spilling through the window, and warily glanced around. Her eyes swept over the familiar walls of her bedroom. Thank God. She was home.

She was also… She peeked under the blanket. Yep. She was bare naked. What had happened last night?

She scrunched up her nose and tried to swallow down the taste clinging to her tongue. Her eyes felt tired, her body sluggish, and she rolled to her back, stretching her arms wide as she did so. Her hand collided with something hard and warm, and she whipped her head toward the right side of the bed.

A huge body occupied the normally empty space next to her, and from a quick glance at the man’s face and the dark artwork decorating his skin, she recognized Roman. His torso was bare, his arms tucked beneath the pillow. She waited a moment to see if he was awake, but he didn’t stir. She used that to her advantage and unabashedly allowed her gaze to rove over his muscular body.

She knew from their initial introduction that his full name was Roman Incardona, but most everyone called him Ink. Even so, she’d always thought of him as just Roman. Looking at him, though, she had to admit that the nickname was incredibly apt. Tattoos decorated nearly every inch of skin from his wrists up to his shoulders, then down his back. Her fingers itched to pull the sheet down and see if he was just as naked as she was.

Did they have sex last night? God, wouldn’t that be just her luck—to finally sleep with him and then have no memory of it?

“What time is it?” She jumped at the sound of Roman’s raspy morning voice.

“Um…”

He cracked one eye open to look at her, then pulled his hand from under the pillow and checked his watch. “We’ve got about another hour. Go back to sleep.”

She stared at him. He seriously expected her to go back to sleep when they were both naked in her bed? At least, she was naked, and she needed answers. “Did we have sex last night?”

This time, both eyes popped open, hitting her with a hard stare. “Negative.”

“What does that mean? Then why am I naked?”

“Because I wasn’t gonna dig around in your stuff to try to find something for you to wear.”

“What was wrong with the clothes I had on?”

With a huff, he rolled over and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. As he changed positions, she saw that he was wearing a pair of tight-fitting black boxers. Shame.

“Because yours were soaked.”

What was soaked? Besides… She ripped her mind out of the gutter and tried to focus. Oh, right. Her clothes. She stared at his back, the intricate artwork dancing over his muscles as he stretched. “So we didn’t have sex last night?”

He threw a look over his shoulder at her. “No.”

He said the word like it was practically three syllables, and it pissed her off. “So what happened?”

“You got drunk, and I brought you home.”

“Then why are you in my bed?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said with no small amount of sarcasm. “Maybe so I could make sure you didn’t choke on your own puke.”

She winced internally, then mentally batted the thought away. “I don’t get sick when I drink.”

He let out a mirthless laugh. “Really? Because my clothes say otherwise.”

Oh, God. Every inch of her body went hot, and she felt heat climbing into her cheeks. “I threw up on you?”

He turned and met her eyes, studying her for several long seconds. “Do you not remember anything?”

She tried desperately to draw back on the events of the last twelve hours or so. There was the show, then they hit up Louie’s to celebrate the end of the tour. She had a couple drinks, a couple shots. She remembered riding the bull and Roman telling her it was time to leave. After that… It was like a blank void.

“No…” She drew the word out long and slow, and he let out a little sigh.

He cleared his throat. “Never mind, just forget about it.”