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“Your clothes are in there,” he said.
She looked to the adjoining room and spotted her jumpsuit and underwear folded neatly over the back of the love seat. Her heels were lined up next to it.
“You touched my panties?” she asked with an incredulous shriek.
His right brow arched. “Youdoremember where my tongue was last night, don’t you?”
That was a reminder she did not need.
The worst part of all this was that she had not been drunk. She’d gotten into his bed—well, first on his conference table, and then in his shower, and then straddling the fucker on the sofa—with hardly a buzz going. She had willingly ridden Drew Sullivan’s face like he was a champion quarter horse. And if she didn’t get the hell out of here right now, she would likely beg him to let her do it again.
He followed her into the living area and walked over to the conference table, where a silver coffee carafe and dozens of documents were arranged in neat stacks. A set of reading glasses sat atop one set of documents.
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Drew said. “Unless you have a surgery scheduled at the hospital?”
“I don’t schedule surgeries on Sundays,” London said as she stepped into her sheer panties.
“Then why are you rushing out?” He walked over to her, stopping a couple of feet away. It was still too close for her peace of mind, so she took several steps back.
“We can grab breakfast.” He paused long enough to look at his watch. “Brunch.”
London gaped at him. “I’m not having brunch with you, Drew. We don’t like each other, remember? What happened here last night was a onetime thing. I appreciate it, because I really,reallyneeded it—”
“Yeah, you did,” he interrupted.
“I can do without your commentary.” She put on her bra, then unfolded her jumpsuit and stepped into it. London inwardly cringed when she realized she’d have to ask for his help in zipping it up. She turned her back to him. “Can you zip this? Please,” she tacked on.
He took so long to move that she thought he wasn’t going to help her, but then she felt his hands grasp the zipper pull at the base of her spine. He guided it up her back, his fingers brushing the spot between her shoulder blades before lingering too long at her nape.
“You don’t have to leave,” he repeated. His breath was warm against her skin, the gentle wisp of it causing goose bumps to pebble up and down her arms.
He was so,sowrong. She absolutely had to leave. Andrightnow.
She slipped into her shoes, grabbed her keys and her phone, and headed for the door. She turned the door handle, but then paused. When she looked back at Drew, he was still in that same spot near the sofa. Those ridiculously chiseled abs taunted her with promises of an afternoon spent in bed running her hands and tongue along them.
“Umm…thanks for the orgasms and stuff,” she said, then wrenched the door open and speed walked to the elevator.
If this were one of those rom-coms she watched on Netflix, he would come racing down the hallway in his bare chest and bare feet and beg for her to return to his room. Cheesy music would play as the numbers on the elevator steadily climbed, reaching a crescendo as it dinged its arrival and waited for her to make her choice.
But Drew didn’t come charging out of his luxury suite. He was probably pouring himself another cup of coffee as he reclaimed his seat at the conference table and got back to making his millions, his night with his old high school nemesis already forgotten.
The elevator arrived and London stepped inside the car, forcing herself not to glance down the corridor as she did. She stood against the back wall and closed her eyes. She tried to remember the breathing techniques Taylor had taught during the yoga class she’d taken some weeks ago, but she had fallen asleep in the middle of it because she was so exhausted these days.
Fuck this. She was not losing her breath over Drew freaking Sullivan. She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted from him—hours of amazing sex—and now she could put him out of her mind and go back to business as usual.
“Stop lying to yourself,” London muttered.
She would eventually fall back into her normal flow, but she wasn’t going to forget her time spent in Drew’s bed anytime soon.
She made her way to the parking garage and her Mini Cooper. Once behind the wheel, she slipped the parking ticket from the cup holder where she’d stashed it after getting it validated by the banquet manager yesterday, then backed out of the parking spot and tore out of the garage.
London set her phone in the cradle attached to the dashboard and group FaceTimed Samiah and Taylor. They came on at the same time.
“Meet me at the Kerbey Lane Cafe near UT’s Campus. This is an emergency.”
She had an overwhelming urge to drown her shame in pancakes.
She clicked out of the call. She wasn’t one to FaceTime and drive, having witnessed the results of distracted driving in surgery more than she wanted to think about. But these were desperate times. She needed her friends.
