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It seemed to loom in front of her, a giant white cloud where under any other circumstances alone with an attractive single man, she would be looking forward to sharing it. Instead, it felt like a mockery of her celibacy and how instead of being there with Sullivan, who had taken loads of women to bed, she was there with his dad.
If that didn’t scream volumes about how misguided her crush on Sullivan was, she didn’t know what would.
Liam was acting completely nonchalant about it, but she wasn’t sure what the protocol was for slipping beneath the sheets of a king size bed with your best friend’s dad when you were fake dating. The rules were very unclear.
Add to that the fact that for all her talk of changing into pajamas, she hadn’t actually packed any. After rushing into the bathroom, she had stripped off her dress. Standing in front of the mirror in her bra and panties, she frantically dug through the bag, though it was obvious the pajamas weren’t in there.
“Seriously?” she muttered out loud. “How? Why?”
When they’d stopped by her apartment so she could pack a bag she had taken pajamas out of her drawer and set them on her bed next to the bag. She distinctly remembered doing that. But then she had clearly failed to actually put them in the bag.
She wasn’t sure what to do. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she put the dress back on and went back into the room.
Liam was lounging on the bed with his shoes off and shirt unbuttoned to the waist.
He had ripped abs that startled her a little.
That was no dad bod.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look upset.”
Of course he would pick up on that because he was ridiculously perceptive. It was starting to annoy her because he was Sullivan’s dad and she was not supposed to be feeling any sort of anything about him. “I forgot my pajamas.”
“Oh. Do you want one of my T-shirts to sleep in?”
Relief coursed through her. That was a much better option than sleeping in her cocktail dress. There was no way she could sleep in just her bra and panties in the same bed as Liam. That would be seriously crossing a line or two. Or twelve.
“That would be great. You don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.” He stood up and went to his overnight bag on the desk. He rifled through it and handed her a T-shirt.
“Thanks.” Lilly headed back to the bathroom, the soft black shirt in her hand, but then paused when she saw Liam peel his dress shirt off, revealing muscular shoulders and his back tattoo. Or tattoos. She wasn’t sure what to call it. It was some kind of skull interlaced with wings and it covered the entirety of his back.
It was something she’d seen before, but not like this. Not in a dim hotel room, the air hushed, the mood intimate.
Then she realized he was watching her in the mirror. He had caught her staring at him.
His gaze locked with hers.
Lilly sucked in a breath then took off for the bathroom, locking the door behind her, heart thumping madly in her chest.
What. The. Hell.
She stripped her dress back off with shaking fingers and started to unhook her bra, then decided the girls needed to remain packed away. She couldn't guarantee what her nipples might do in the presence of a shirtless man.
The T-shirt was a Metallica shirt. Seriously?
It was big enough that it covered her important parts, but it skimmed mid-thigh. She’d have to be careful about bunching while sleeping.
As if she could control what the shirt was doing while she was sleeping.
She put her hands on her hot cheeks and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked glassy-eyed and aroused. “Pull your shit together,” she ordered her reflection.
Her reflection looked like there was no shit being pulled together anytime soon.
Liam was messingaround on his phone when Lilly came out of the bathroom, wearing his T-shirt. Damn. She was all long legs and pink cheeks. She was still wearing a bra, which seriously disappointed him.
At that moment, he knew without question that Sullivan didn’t, and never would, care for Lilly in a romantic way.
