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Waking up is disorientating. When I force my gritty eyes open, the first things I see are exposed brick and an empty nightstand. What the hell? This isn’t where I fell asleep. There was a sofa and a generically furnishing living room like a hotel.
I jerk upright. I’m still fully dressed, so there’s that. I’m also curled up in a large bed in the middle of a moderate-sized bedroom. Like last night's generic living room, the exposed brick walls are the only defining feature. The rest of the room is empty apart from the bed, a bureau, and two bare nightstands.
I definitely fell asleep on the sofa. Blinking in surprise, I glance around the sparse room. Paddy must have moved me into the bedroom after I fell asleep.
My cheeks heat at the idea of a man as gorgeous and dangerous asPaddy Flynncarrying me into bed. It’s enough to make my heart thump andeverythingtingle. It’s a good thing he didn’t tuck me in as well… my ovaries might explode at the thought.
Still moving around the room, my eyes land on my duffel bag, lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. Thank goodness he had the foresight to move that too.
I scramble over to it, snatching it up and carrying it into the bathroom with me. Like the rest of the condo, Paddy’s lack of personal touch is evident.
The only color is the dark towels hanging over the rail near the spacious shower. Shedding my clothes, I slide into the subway-tiled space, sighing with pleasure at the strong water pressure. We had terrible water pressure at our Dot apartment. This is like heaven.
Opening my body wash, I inhale, smiling to myself. I might have packed in a hurry, but I’m glad I brought this. I remember the first time I smelled it. Some girlfriend of Josh’s left it in our shower, and I swiped it. It smelled like luxury then. Now it just smells like home.
Closing my eyes, I sniff, shaking my head and tipping my head back to allow the water flow over my face to wash away any possibility of tears. There’s no point crying. I’ve done so much crying recently. I simply want to enjoy how lovely this shower is.
Stepping out of the shower, I snag a soft, dark towel, quickly dry myself, and brush my teeth, feeling like a new woman. Knotting my hair on top of my head, I tug on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater, staring at myself in the large mirror above the stone-finished basin.
The dark circles under my eyes from yesterday have disappeared. I must have slept well. That’s a first for me recently. I might have remembered to bring my body wash, but makeup wasn’t high on my list.
Oh well. The sexy woman from last night offering herself to Paddy floats through my mind. I could never compete. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t even try.
Leaving the bathroom, I crack open the bedroom door, peeking into the main room. The sofa is empty, but I can smell coffee, tempting me into the kitchen like the pied piper.
My feet falter at the sight of Paddy sitting at the breakfast bar, seemingly engrossed in an iPad. He glances up as I tiptoe out of the bedroom, his eyes moving across my jeans and baggy sweater. Tugging at the hem, I swallow, willing the blush to leave my cheeks.
“Morning,” I squeak. Something about his sexiness and the feeling of danger emanating from him caused that noise. At the sound, he raises a brow.
“Afternoon,” he rumbles back.
Afternoon? I glance at the clock on the microwave in surprise. Holy crap. It’s after two in the afternoon. I slept forhours! I should thank him for letting me sleep. He could have woken me hours ago and kicked me out of his apartment.
Fixing him with a small smile, I open my mouth. But no thanks come out.
“You put me to bed.” I narrow my eyes accusingly at him, but the cocky bastard smirks at me. So much for saying thank you.
“And so I did,” he agrees easily. “And a good thing too. Otherwise, I’d have been creeping around my own home all day while you slept.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t fault his logic. He could have woken me up, but I’m not about to suggest it if it didn’t occur to him. I close it without speaking, moving into the kitchen to pour myself some coffee.
Once I’m furnished with a mug, Paddy pats the barstool beside him, and just like last night, my feet obey his silent command without question.
When I’m seated, my feet dangling like a child, Paddy watches me for a beat, sliding a half-eaten cream cheese-smeared bagel in front of me. I think maybe he was eating it before I came out of the bedroom.
“Eat.”
Before I can even think, I’ve picked it up and devoured it. Paddy watches me eat in silence. I lick the cream cheese from my fingers, turning to him once I’m done.
Without speaking, he blinks at me, reaching up, cupping my jaw with his hand, and stroking his thumb over the corner of my mouth, his eyes darkening.
He blinks again, drawing his hand back, putting his thumb in his mouth, and sucking the cream cheese he wiped from my face into his mouth. Okay. That was…wicked hot.
My breathing hitches at the intimate gesture, and his pupils dilate at the sound. What is happening? He clears his throat, his hand dropping to the breakfast bar.
“So, Lauren Carmichael,” he speaks after a moment, drumming his thumb on the counter. “Why do ye need my help?”
I wish he’d keep the Irish out of his voice. It’s wreaking havoc with my mind. Like he’s strumming on my clit with just his voice.
