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I bet his perfect wife never gets wasted like this.
Wife, shit, I need to get out of this bed.
My bed. Somehow, he’s brought me back here last night after dinner, stripped me, and then slept with me in my bed, and I don’t remember a thing.
At least I’m not naked, and I can rest assured we didn’t have sex because I would be sore in places that haven’t been touched in so long that I’ve forgotten what any sensation feels like in that area.
Giving up the fear of waking him, I push up on my hands to sit up only to be pulled back down on top of his chest.
“Nope.” His rough morning voice bounces off the walls in the dead silence of my room.
Fucker has probably been awake this whole time.
“Let me up now, Jordan!” Knowing he was lying there while I was freaking out and he didn’t say a thing is pissing me off.
“I said nope. Because once I let you go, I know I won’t get another chance to hug you.”
Asshole!
I shove him so hard he has to let me go. Letting out a loud groan, he grabs his opposite shoulder to the one I was lying on. Spotting a packet of peas on the bedside table, my mind stops. As a trainer I know exactly what that means.
“Shit, Jordan, what happened to your shoulder?” The strained look on his face, the lines around his squinting eyes, shows the pain he’s trying to ignore and pretend is not there.
“Nothing.” The tightness in his voice tells me he’s lying to me. His hand slides down off where he had grabbed the shoulder and reaches out for my arm. He slowly rubs up and down, goosebumps following in his wake.
The electricity of his touch jolts me back into reality.
“What are you doing here?” I jump back from him and scramble off my bed, stumbling a little to gain my balance. The dizziness is enough to trigger that seasick feeling in my stomach, the disgusting taste of stale alcohol and bile in my mouth. Ugh, I’m an absolute mess.
“Stop freaking out, Nat, and sit back down before you fall.” Why do I feel like I need to do exactly as he says? I’ve never been one to take orders, and even if my instinct is telling me to do it, I don’t answer to anyone.
“Answer my question, Jordan. What the hell are you doing in my bed?” I’ve got one hand on my hip now and the other holding onto the wall to steady me. Which brings a smirk to his face which is just pissing me off further.
“Okay, it’s going to be like this, is it?” he says.
God, I wish he would stop giving me that panty-melting grin like he’s laughing at me and checking me out at the same time. My sleep shirt is brushing my thighs just above my panty line. Grabbing the bottom of it, I tug it down as low as I can get it.
“Like what? Answer my damn question and stop ignoring me freaking out over here.”
It’s either my hangover or everything seems to be happening in slow motion this morning. Jordan sits up in the bed and the blanket that was draped over both of us slides down his abs like the unveiling of a statue at the museum. I wish I could take back the little gasp that sneaks out of my mouth, and it brings way too much delight to him. I remember what they felt like all those years ago, but they were baby abs. Which I can confirm is not the case now. They are now the full adult version of a rock-hard eight-pack of abs that are definitely looking lickable.
Oh my God, what is wrong with me? Stop staring at him! Remember he’s not yours to drool over. I blame the alcohol for my lack of retreat. I mean, if I do the right thing and turn away then it will make me dizzy and I might puke. So, it’s not my fault that I’m still transfixed on him.
Lord help me!
The blanket falls and Jordan stands. Lucky I still have panties on, and I know this because they are now wet from watching this show in front of me. His back is to me, that perfect triangle, a canvas of the muscles he needs to be the star he is. I don’t know if he can feel the burn of my eyes as they move down his body.
Holy shit! That ass in pale gray briefs has my breathing stop, heart racing, and a whole lot of tingling in places that are feeling pretty revved up right now. Pushing my thighs together in an attempt to stop it achieves jack shit. The perfect tight end, as they would say, and just what he looks like in those football pants. With the strength in his legs, I can only imagine what they could do to me while I was plastered on the wall with my ankles wrapped around him.
“Pick your jaw up, Nat.” His voice breaks my ogling. I snap to look up at his face as he glances over his shoulder at me, very satisfied with how he has made me melt. Laughing that deep throaty laugh, he disappears into the bathroom.
“Don’t you walk away from me!” I’m back and now trying to get the upper hand.
“Why, you want to come in and hold it for me while I take a leak? I’m all for touching, but I think I can handle this one.” His laugh comes through the almost-closed door.
Ugh! Kill me now.
“You’re disgusting, close the door properly then. I don’t need to hear you peeing.”
