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Despite my sour stomach, I manage to turn my head in the direction of the sound. It’s coming from behind a closed door. Most likely a bathroom. I deduce this just in time to hear the distinct sound of a shower being turned off. Then, with every available brain cell, I piece together the sounds of a shower door opening and closing. A towel being rubbed vigorously over a body. Then a lock being flipped, and a door handle turning.Oh fuck.
He emerges from a cloud of steam, like a cheesy sitcomfantasy scene. And I swear to god, I’ve never seen him before in my life.
“Oh hey, good. You’re up.” He rubs his still-wet black hair in a lazy way that conveys he’s not surprised to see me in his bed.
I assume this is his bed, as it is very much not mine.
What the hell happened last night?
I have a very fuzzy memory of diving into my bed. Then stumbling back downstairs. Then kissing Dax. Then nothing.
Holy hell, I kissed Dax.
I need to unpack that memory. Somewhere safe. When I’m able to really assess the carnage of that particular grenade on our friendship. Right now, I have more pressing problems. Like, this man is not Dax. And I have no idea where I am.
I take a second look at my surroundings. There’s a city outside the window. An early-morning sun peeking up over the horizon. And, yes, a semi-naked man at the end of the bed.
What did you do, Gemma?
My best guess is that I must have gone out, hit up a bar, and gone home with a stranger.
“I’m making breakfast,” the stranger says. “I know bacon is not your thing, but you don’t normally spend the night, so I wasn’t prepared.”
I’d be insulted that this rando has clearly mixed me up with another of his one-night-stands if I wasn’t still attempting to piece together what the hell I got up to last night.
And looking for the nearest exit.
And my pants.
And freaking the fuck out.
“That’s okay,” I respond like things are completely fine. “I am not hungry.” Just very confused and wondering what I’m gonna do next.
My stranger tosses the hand towel he was using on his hair onto the end of the bed and proceeds to open and close his dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of red boxer briefs and black dress socks.
My head is throbbing. My tongue feels like cheap velvet in my mouth. Although I really should be continuing to panic, or planning my escape, or something else much more logical, I’m waylaid as Horny Gemma takes over and instead, I pause to check the man out.
At least in my very inebriated state last night, I had the good sense to pick up a specimen.
His body is well muscled but lean in the right places. Great arms. Great abs. And judging from the curve of the white towel tied around his waist, great ass.
“You interested in some action before work?” He smirks, having caught me staring.
Before I have a chance to answer, he drops his towel.
Andoh! Ohhhhh…My eyes drop low. He’s only half-hard and yet already pretty impressive.
He moves toward the bed, taking my ogling as acceptance of his invitation.
“I can’t.” I spring from the mattress with surprising agility, grabbing the very tiny hand towel in a pitiful attempt to cover up. “I…um…have a big meeting this morning and really need to get going.” It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s the least of my worries at this moment.
“You sure? Believe it or not, I can be quick.”
I skim the room frantically, looking for my clothes, and spy them neatly folded on a chair. “Very sure.” I pull on my favorite jeans and a sweater that I swear went missing three months ago. My panties are nowhere to be found, but at this moment, I’m willing to accept them as collateral damage for getting out ofhere as soon as possible. I lunge for the door, still buttoning up my pants as I move, but as I reach the threshold, the panic in my brain recedes enough for a little common sense to kick in.
“So last night—did we use protection?”
I’m using my boardroom business voice here because as much as I am mortified, my bodily health is at stake.
