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He chuckles and finishes his beer. My eyes follow him as he stands up and walks over to a suitcase made of fancy leather. There’s not a single scuff mark on it, and I question what kind of single guy has luggage that nice.
The zipper slides down the side, and he pulls out a silk button-down shirt. “Here. You can wear this if you want.” He gives me that questioning look, and for a moment, I hesitate. Staying in a guy’s room is weird, but almost understandable in my situation. Drinking his beer is very acceptable, especially when it’s raspberry coffee beer. But wearing his clothes? That’s a whole new level of uncomfortable. I didn’t even wear my ex-boyfriend’s clothes.
But it’s that or shiver myself to sleep.
“You sure?” I ask.
He nods and comes back to the table. “I’m all out of clean pants, so you’ll have to make do with your own on that end. Or, you know, don’t wear any. Up to you.”
I bite my bottom lip as I take the shirt from him. Another drink of the beer, and it’s gone, and Phillip is already heading to the giant heart-shaped bed. I have to hold back a shiver as I see him bend over to pull the blanket back. He may not have another pair of pants, but I might share those with him.
Stop it!Why am I like this? I don’t know anything about him other than that he’s hot and likes to drink fancy, weird beer. I am about to be a junior editor with Loughton House Publishing, and a professional like that does not act like a feral cat in heat just because a hot guy bends over. Even if he seems to be as much of a gentleman as any girl could hope for.
I shake my head, trying to get a hold of myself, before grabbing the worn backpack. On my way to the bathroom to change, my heart beats a little faster when I notice Phillip watching me from the bed. I shut and lock the bathroom door and try to get my breathing under control. Leaning against the wall and taking slow breaths, I do what I can to ignore how turned on I am.
It may look like the perfect start to a murder mystery, but everything I’ve seen from Phillip makes me think he’s about as dangerous as a teddy bear. Just a quiet guy who’s trying to help a girl with the worst luck in the world tonight.
But thereissomething that makes my knees weak when he looks at me like he just did. I don’t know why, but when he was watching me, it was like he was seeing through my clothes. I felt so vulnerable to that stare, and for the first time, that vulnerability kicked my libido up to eleven.
Brushing it off, I step away from the wall. It doesn’t matter since tomorrow morning we’ll part ways and never see each other again after a long night of no hot and heavy touches. No midnight scenes from a steamy romance novel. Just a night of sleeping in wet booty shorts and a random guy’s silk shirt in a heart-shaped bed.
My clothes are off in a flash, and I grab a towel from the stack on a shelf to dry myself off. I’m still cold, but at least it feels like I might warm up, eventually. When I wrap myself in Phillip’s shirt, it envelopes me. Soft silk against my skin is like the whisper of a caress, and it gives me goosebumps.
And the scent on it is far deeper than I ever expected. Dark and complex, like that beer of his, I can’t place what it reminds me of. Something woodsy? Smokey? There’s a strength to it, but a gentleness as well.
Don’t ask me to explain how a shirt can smell like that. When it’s buttoned up, I look at myself in the mirror and am surprised how much I enjoy wearing it. I glance down at the backpack, knowing that I need to get the booty shorts out. They’re still soaked, but hopefully they’ll dry quickly enough.
Because there’s absolutely no way I’m going to crawl into bed without bottoms on. I dig through the soaking wet bag, and when I pull the shorts out, a steady stream of water runs from them onto the linoleum floor.
When I’m done wringing them out, they’re still cold and very damp, but it’s as good as I can hope for. I feel like most of the night has boiled down to that phrase.It’s as good as I can hope for.
I’ll just pray that when the sun comes up tomorrow, my luck will have changed at least a little.
My teeth grind together as I pull the shorts on. My whole body shivers immediately, and they stick to my legs like a swimsuit, but I finally get them all the way on. I try to pretend like I just got out of a pool, but wearing Phillip’s shirt keeps me from ever feeling like that’s a reality.
Nope, I’m just a chick in a stranger’s shirt and some very damp shorts. When I step out of the bathroom, Phillip’s dark eyes are on me immediately. “I think that shirt looks better on you than me,” he says, his voice soft and smokey. God, he’s sitting up, his head against the rickety headboard, and the blanket is pulled down to his waist. If I didn’t know better, he could be naked under that blanket. The more I think about it, the more I wonder which I’d prefer.
“Nice try, Casanova. If your next line is ‘It’d look even better on the floor’, I will promptly ignore it and steal the covers from you.”
He chuckles and shrugs. “Can you blame a guy for telling the truth? I can’t remember the last time a more beautiful woman came out of my bathroom wearing my shirt.”
“Laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?” Even though I was shivering seconds ago, I can already feel myself warming up.
He just gives a little laugh and lays down on his back before picking up his phone. Somehow, even when his eyes are clearly on his phone, I feel like he’s staring at me, and it sends a thrill through me.
“Want me to turn out the lights?” I ask.
He looks up from his phone and glances around the room. “Sure.”
I start clicking off the many little switches on the lamps around the room. When I glance back at Phillip, I catch him looking at me, and that warmth inside me turns molten. I wasn’t just imagining it. He’s been watching me this entire time.
A new kind of shiver runs through me as I climb under the blankets. Turned away from him on my side, I stare at the wall, waiting to see what happens now that I’m in bed.
“Night, Addison.”
That’s all? My body feels like it’s on pins and needles, waiting for his hand to brush my exposed thighs or the small of my back through his shirt. I’m not sure how I’d respond, but the anticipation is killing me.
“Night,” I say, and the light next to his side of the bed switches off, leaving us in darkness.
