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“There isn’t any. I checked.”
She bit back a whimper and headed for the door. There was some downstairs in her desk, and she needed clean clothes to get dressed for work.
But a couple steps past the couch, she knew she’d go crazy if she didn’t know exactly what happened the night before, so she turned around to ask. She froze when she caught sight of Loyal’s sculpted ass as he stood and reached for his pants. Thankfully—or not—he was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs.
She enjoyed the smooth slide of muscle under skin as he stepped into his dress pants, but when he straightened and turned toward her while zipping up, she averted her gaze toward the windows. “Um…nothing happened last night, did it?”
“Like what?”
A quick glance caught his raised eyebrows as he leaned to scoop up his shirt. “I don’t know exactly.”
“I don’t have sex with drunk women who can’t consent,” he stated.
“I didn’t think that,” she scoffed, heat burning her cheeks.
It had been so long, she was positive she’d know if she’d had sex last night, whether she remembered it or not. And, if she had had sex with Loyal when she was too drunk to remember every single detail, she’d never forgive herself. Even in this moment, she was angry the kiss was only a blurry memory.
No. Damn it. She had to stop thinking that way. The rare nice gesture from him was not enough to make up for all the years he’d been a jerk. Besides, the basket was from his mom, not him.
But he slept on that uncomfortable couch to make sure you were okay when you were too drunk to know better.
So what? He wasn’t a nice guy. She was moving on. She was done with him taking up unearned space in her heart.
“What did you think?” he prompted.
“I…” She couldn’t say it out loud to his face. Especially when he was standing there all bare-chested and sexy with his shirt dangling from his fingers.
“You don’t remember, do you?” As soon as he asked the question, a smirk tugged at his mouth. “Ah…no, you do remember. That’s the problem.”
“I was drunk.” she rationalized with a lift of her chin. “People do stupid things when they’re drunk. Really stupid things.”
“Like beg a guy they supposedly hate to kiss them?” he asked as he finally shrugged into his shirt.
Exactly like that.
Humiliation set her face on fire, and she spun around for the door again. “There’s no supposedly about it—I do hate you.”
“Where are you going in that robe?”
His voice was closer than expected, and she cast an alarmed glance over her shoulder to see he’d grabbed his socks and shoes to follow her. Her heart lurched with him being close enough for her to catch a faint whiff of male mixed with lingering cologne. He hadn’t taken time to button his shirt yet, and she tightened her hand on the door handle to resist the urge to reach out and touch his chest. To trail her hand down over his ripped abs, follow the happy trail of hair—
Geezus! Hadn’t she just reiterated she hated him?
“I don’t have clothes up here, so I have to get dressed down in my shop,” she explained impatiently. “I have to open in twenty minutes.”
He backed up a step and swiped her bag of underwear and bras off the counter. “Don’t forget these.”
Heat flooded her face as she snatched the bag from his hand and yanked open the door. Her head still hurt, and he was making it worse.
“What did you mean last night when you said you needed to sleep me off?”
His question made Roxanna’s stomach bottom out, but she refused to look at him. “How would I know?”
She did know, but if he hadn’t already figured it out, she sure as hell wasn’t going to explain it to him.
“You are the one that said it.”
“We’ve already established drunk people do and say stupid things,” she argued as she moved into the hall. She tried to pull the apartment door shut in his face, but he caught it and stepped out after her. “Clearly, I didn’t know what I was saying.”
