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* * *
I return to consciousness slowly, awareness returning to my limbs one at a time.
I’m covered by a thin, soft blanket, which is completely unnecessary because heat envelops the length of my back, radiating through the rest of me.
Warm air puffs against my neck. A heavy weight presses around my waist.
Weak light pushes through the curtains, coating the room in gray. A click sounds in the walls and the low hum of a heater fills the room. The power is back on.
I slip out from under Atticus’s arm and then pick up all the various articles of my clothing scattered on the floor. Arms loaded, I snag my bag from the chair and then creep down the hallway in search of a bathroom.
Shutting myself inside, I plug my phone in the outlet on the wall, resting it on the dark granite counter. I take care of necessities—peeing, washing my face, rubbing toothpaste on my teeth—while my phone takes in some much-needed juice.
I need to call Finley and get out of here before Atticus wakes up.
He gave me multiple orgasms, and I fell asleep. My hands lift, covering my heated face.
I’m so embarrassed. And yet, part of me would have no problem waking him up for round two. Or is it three?
No. I can’t do that. With the morning, sanity returns. I’m leaving in a couple of days anyway. A repeat performance would be awkward. Wouldn’t it?
Besides, I hate saying goodbye. It’s better this way. I’ll probably never see him again.
Or by the time I see him again, years will have passed, and he’ll be married and settled down with three kids, a blond wife, and a Yorkie with a perfect pink bow in its hair.
The thought generates a pang, deep down, but I shake it off, mentally scolding myself. Dramatic much? Clearly, I’ve gone way too long between hookups.
I need to get out of here. As soon as possible.
Keeping the phone connected to the charger, I dial Finley’s cell.
“Hey, stranger. Merry Christmas Eve.” The words are a little raspy.
“Did I wake you?” My voice echoes, bouncing around the small bathroom, even though I try to keep it low.
“Why are you whispering?” she asks.
I wince at my reflection in the mirror. Because I’m trying not to wake up the man who gave me multiple orgasms before I passed out on him. “I’m... I’m here, in town.”
She gasps. “What? How did you get to town? When? Where are you?”
Before I can answer there’s a murmuring from her end of the phone, a deep masculine voice talking nearby. Archer.
“It’s Taylor. She’s in town.”
“I ran out of gas out on Maple Parkway last night in the middle of the storm.”
“Last night? You got here last night? Why didn’t you call?”
“My phone was dead, and the power was out. Besides, there’s no way anyone could have come to rescue me in that monster storm.”
A rustling accompanies her words. “You’re probably right, although you know Jake would have tried. Where did you sleep? Please don’t tell me you had to stay in your van all night in this cold.”
“No, the bus died right outside of the Petersons’, so I stayed at their place.”
No need to mention the Petersons are out of town and only Atticus was here and everything else that followed.
“That is a relief. Tell Paul and Moira I said hi.”
