Chapter 16 #2
She gestures toward the bathroom out in the hall. “I’ll just get changed then,” she mumbles, before ducking her head and exiting the bedroom.
I wait until I hear the bathroom door click shut before rushing out to grab her dress off the floor. After tossing it in the dryer, I stalk back into the kitchen and down the rest of my whiskey before resting my elbows on the cold marble and putting my face in my hands.
I keep making one bad mistake after another. It feels like I’m on a speeding train that’s just going faster and faster before it inevitably crashes.
Summer exits the bathroom, damp hair leaving wet splotches against the fabric of my T-shirt. She shoves some of the wet strands behind her ear, clearly nervous as she tugs at the edge of the shirt, trying to cover more of her legs.
I quickly look away, not wanting to contribute to making her feel more uncomfortable than necessary.
Her lips tighten in a small smile as she makes her way toward the couch and her purse.
I watch as she grabs her phone and opens the Uber app.
She tries to load nearby rides, but nothing shows up.
She lets out an agitated sigh and shifts her weight.
She holds her arm up a bit higher, trying to see if a better signal will make a difference.
The movement causes the shirt to rise, showing more of her upper thighs.
I quickly look away, cursing under my breath.
She exhales in frustration, then moves to a different spot in the room and raises the phone higher.
I can’t stop myself. I’m speaking before I fully realize what I’m saying. “It’s really late, and you aren’t dressed for an Uber. You can just crash here, and I’ll drive you to the parking garage in the morning when it opens.” Bad idea. Bad fucking idea.
This entire night has been full of bad ideas.
She bites her lower lip as she seems to mull the offer over.
Say no, Summer. Just make the smart decision, put me out of my misery, and say no.
“Are you sure?” she asks, looking anywhere but at me. “I really don’t want to put you out.”
“It’s nothing, really. You can have the bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Oh, no, I can’t impose on your personal space and then kick you out of your bed. Let me sleep on the couch.”
“My mother would whack me with a wooden spoon if I made a woman sleep on the couch while I took the bed. Seriously, one night on the couch won’t kill me. It’s no big deal.”
“Only if you’re sure,” she says, clearly still hesitating.
“I insist.”
I grab a spare pillow and blanket from the closet and try to give her a reassuring smile. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, tugging at the edge of the shirt she’s wearing, looking nervous as all hell.
As I walk past her, I get a whiff of my shampoo, and knowing my scent is all over her threatens to give me a hard-on all over again.
She stiffens as I pass by her, and I feel bad that she’s obviously so uncomfortable. You should’ve called her an Uber the moment she set foot inside your apartment, asshole. No shower. No T-shirt. No sleeping in your bed.
“There’s a lock on the door,” I offer, hoping it’ll put her more at ease.
“What?” she asks, startled.
“The door locks, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that,” she says hurriedly. “I just feel awkward,” she finishes in a murmur.
“Well, I’ll let you get to bed, I’ll close the door, and then in the morning we can get you to your car, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened.” I smile at her before doing exactly what I told her I would. I walk away from her. Close the door. And make my bed on the couch.
It isn’t until I’m lying on the black leather of my sofa that I realize I didn’t grab any comfortable clothes to change into.
I’m still in my button-up and dress pants.
I can’t go back to my room to grab something else.
Seeing Summer in my bed might just undo me completely and decimate the sliver of self-control that I have left.
I debate sleeping in my briefs, but I picture Summer’s shocked face if she comes out here for a glass of water or to use the restroom and sees me practically naked on the couch. Would that be weird? I mean, it’s my apartment, but I’m trying to make things as least awkward as possible.
And so far, you’re failing miserably.
So the clothes are staying on.
I toss and turn in the living room, hating the fact that she’s so close, and I can’t do anything about it.
Knowing that she’s in my bedroom, sleeping in my bed, in my clothes.
Is she naked under my shirt, or did she put her underwear on?
Would she be a good girl and put wet panties back on, or would she be dirty and sleep in my bed with practically nothing between her and my sheets?
She could be naked under my T-shirt, practically naked in my bed, and it’s killing me.
I can’t fucking take it.
Against my better judgment, I push myself to my feet and stalk toward my bedroom.
I just want to see her, I tell myself. I’ll just open the door to confirm that she’s sleeping, and then I’ll turn right back around and get some shut-eye myself.
Who the fuck are you kidding?
I open the door, and she’s standing right there in front of me, hand outstretched toward the doorknob.
“I, uh.” She shakes her head, looking for something to say.
I’m just as lost for words as she is.
Her brown eyes look almost black in the dark, but as she steps forward, I can see her pupils dilate.
I know that I should turn around, give her some lame excuse that I was just making sure she fell asleep all right, and then I should go back to the couch and try my best to pretend like she isn’t sleeping in the next room over.
But I can’t. I fucking can’t.
We reach for each other at the same time.
My lips slam into hers before our tongues battle for dominance. My fingers tangle in her still-damp hair, and her hands rake down my back.
And fuck me, but she still somehow tastes like apples.
“Tell me to stop,” I breathe into her mouth as her deft fingers work the buttons on my shirt. “If I get my hands on you… on your naked body, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” she sighs against my lips before pushing my shirt off my shoulders.
“All I could fucking think about out there was if you were naked under this T-shirt,” I rasp out, fisting the black material in my hands and pulling her closer to me, eliciting a tiny gasp from her lips.
“What are you waiting for?” she asks as I back her up toward the bed. “Don’t you want to know?”
She collapses on the bed, and I’m on top of her and kissing her again before she can say anything else.
I rip the T-shirt off of her, and she is absolutely, gloriously, naked in my arms. “I fucking knew it,” I breathe before crushing her against me and claiming her lips with mine.
My hands roam over her body, unable to stop in just one place.
My fingers trail down her neck, across her collarbone, over her breast, and down her ribs before gripping her hips.
Her skin is so soft and practically glows in the city lights that shine through my bedroom window.
“You’re so beautiful,” I sigh into her mouth.
She flushes pink in the dim lighting but pulls my hips flush against hers. She moans at the feeling of me against the most sensitive part of her—nothing between us but the fabric of my pants.
She feels like heaven against me.
Oh, I am fucked. Absolutely fucked.