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Oh, boy, that’s a new fantasy.
Wine on an empty stomach was officially a bad idea.
Actually, Loyal on his kne
es looks pretty good.
Apparently, the wine was still messing with her head.
And the rest of her, considering it still felt like it was a hundred degrees in the room even without the covers. She stripped off her skirt before heading straight for the bathroom to pee and gulp handfuls of water to wet her dry mouth.
As she leaned against the counter and tried to will her piercing headache away, she amended her earlier thought to—wine on an empty stomach is a horrible, no-good, stupid idea.
A hot shower helped some, but as a few more snippets of her alcohol-fueled dreams surfaced, she acknowledged she was going to need ibuprofen to assist with her oils this morning.
Extra strength—and fast.
She shut off the water and grabbed a towel to dry off. The idea of putting her dirty, sweaty clothes back on to go down to her shop made her wince. Then she noticed a fluffy white robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door.
That hadn’t been there yesterday, had it?
She must’ve missed it, but who cared? It was a godsend right now, because even though the back entrance to her shop and upstairs was private, going down there in a towel would have been weird. She slipped into the super soft robe and tied the sash as she stepped out of the bathroom to go get her bag of new underwear and bras off the counter in the kitchen.
“You doing okay this morning?”
Roxanna jumped and screamed at the sound of the gravelly voice from the couch. When the man of her dreams sat up, she sagged against the wall, head and heart pounding hard.
“Damn it, Loyal. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry. I thought you saw me this time.”
No, but she was seeing him now. Acutely aware she was naked beneath the robe, her fingers clutched the material together at her throat as her gaze raked over his bare chest. She darted a glance to his clothes laid neatly across the arm of the neighboring recliner and wondered if he’d slept in the nude again or left his briefs on.
Stiffening her spine against the desire to find out, she demanded, “What the hell are you doing here? Asher said you moved to a hotel.”
“I did, but you were really drunk last night. I figured I’d better stay to make sure you were okay.”
Wow. That actually sounded nice, but confusion swirled as parts of her dream floated in and out of focus.
Loyal at the door with a basket.
Taking away her wine glass because she’d had too much.
On his knees untying her boots.
Her begging him to kiss her.
Him actually kissing her.
That was a dream…wasn’t it?
She shifted her gaze and spotted the big square gift basket on the kitchen table. A care package from Janine. Her fingers tightened on the fuzzy robe.
Oh, God. Not a dream.
A dizzying combination of humiliation and dread whirled in her belly as the devil took an ice pick to her brain.
“I need ibuprofen,” she muttered.
