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My stomach lurched. “Ugh. I missed the brunch. We both missed brunch. Oh, God.”
“My head hurts—“
I didn’t let him finish. “Oh, my God! What was your phone doing down there? Did we take pictures? Or video? Give me that!”
I tried to grab for it, but he fended me off. If I didn’t currently feel like I’d been trampled by a herd of buffalo, I would have put more effort into it.
I watched in muted horror as he opened the camera app and clicked through the recent photos. Yes, there were photos of us. Not naked photos, thank the Lord. But kind of disturbing?
I inched closer to him so I could see them on the screen. It wasn’t lost on me that my bare breasts were rubbing up against his arm and my naked body was only inches from his.
He scrolled back to the first photo we’d taken of ourselves last night. It was a harmless selfie with our faces squished together. We were both laughing, obviously very drunk.
“I don’t remember that,” I admitted.
“Me neither. It looks like it’s from that cocktail bar. We went back there after the club.”
The next photo was of him smiling into the camera while I was kissing him on the cheek. He was holding one of my legs up, which was bent and raised in front of him. It was like a sexy, pin-up pose. We didn’t usually have that friendly, joking dynamic between us, but we’d been drunk. There was no need to feel embarrassed. Right?
“That’s fucking sexy.”
His words shot straight to my girly parts. How could I be turned on and feel like I was about to die of a hangover at the same time? “Looks like we were having fun.”
He flipped to the next photo. The background was dark, but it looked like we were in a car, and I was sprawled out all over him in a highly unflattering position. My short dress rode up my thighs so high that my ass was exposed. Neither of us was smiling in this picture; we looked like we were ten seconds from full-on fucking.
“That looks hot, Lace.”
I enlarged the photo to look more closely at the background. “Were we in a limo? Did we go out last night?”
“I don’t remember, but I wish I did.”
The next picture was of him carrying me piggyback style.
“I hope no one was behind us. My ass was probably hanging out.”
His chest rumbled with laughter and then he flipped to the next one. Someone else had taken this shot from a few feet back. Sebastian’s hands were cupping my cheeks, and he was kissing me so tenderly. My stomach twisted. This photo was perhaps the most embarrassing so far. There was so much emotion behind it; it looked so real — like we were a real couple.
He must have felt something similar because he quickly flipped to the next one instead of lingering on it as he had with the others.
In this one, we were kissing again, but this time, his hands were resting on my waist and my arms were wrapped around his neck.
The next four photos were all variations of us making out. I guess we gave the mysterious photographer a good show. In the last one, we weren’t kissing, but we were wrapped up in each other’s arms, just staring into each other’s eyes. This one was so painfully romantic, I had to look away.
I needed to break the odd tension that I could feel building between us. “At least we didn’t make a sex tape.”
The phone began vibrating again. It was Sid. As soon as he declined the call, a text from him popped up. It looked like he’d been blowing Sebastian’s phone up all morning.
“I can’t believe we went out somewhere.”
He tossed his phone onto the nightstand and then turned those devastating eyes on me. “Maybe we just rode around the Strip in a limo. I remember you saying your feet hurt, so you didn’t want to walk.”
Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door. I squeaked and then slid further under the covers.
“Shit, that’s got to be Sid. He’s not going to go away.”
“Oh my God,” I panicked. “Don’t tell him I’m here.” I pulled at the sheet and rolled off the bed simultaneously. It was a bad idea. My stomach revolted, and I almost vomited. As fast as my body allowed, I waddled into the bathroom on horribly shaky legs and shut the door. The movement caused the jackhammer in my head to speed up.
I assumed Sebastian answered the door when the pounding stopped. I leaned against the door, swallowing down a rush of bile, and listened.
