CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lucas
I wake up with her scent on my pillows.
My head might be pounding like a kick drum, but I can definitely smell that. Soap. Clean. Some citrusy perfume that shouldn’t feel intimate but does.
For a split second before my brain catches up to my nose, I think she’s still here.
Then I open my eyes—wince at the bright sunlight cutting through the open blinds—to find the room empty. More specifically, the spot in bed beside me empty.
I roll onto my back and take stock. Woman? Gone. Shoulder? Aching. Head? Pounding like a motherfucker. Mouth? Tastes like cotton.
Maybe it’s better she didn’t see me like this. Hungover. Dragging ass.
Then again, she did see you in rare form last night. I drag a hand over my face. Last night. Ugh.
But first, I need water.
And when I roll on my side to get out of bed, there’s a glass of water on my nightstand, a bottle of Gatorade, and two ibuprofen set neatly beside them.
There’s also my cell phone. Plugged in. Alarm already set—Film Review. 8:30 a.m.—to go off in ten minutes.
I chuckle and scrub a hand down my face. Of course, she did.
She didn’t leave a note though. She didn’t linger. She simply took care of me in a way I can’t say anyone ever has.
Kind of like I did to her that first night.
That’s food for fucking thought.
With a sigh, I close my eyes. Fragments of last night drift back in flashes.
Her mismatched pajamas.
Her laugh when I teased her.
The look on her face when I told her all the things I liked—really liked—about her.
I remember saying too much.
I remember meaning every word.
And I’m not embarrassed. Not even a little.
If anything, I feel . . . settled. Like I can now stop pretending I’m not already knee-deep in this thing.
My gaze lands on the pillow I shoved between us and shake my head, a slow grin tugging at my mouth.
Yeah, that’s not going to fly again. The next time we end up in the same bed? There sure as shit isn’t going to be a goddamn pillow between us. Or clothes.
I push myself up and reach for the water.
Needs improvement, my ass.
That was an invitation if I’ve ever heard one.
And I’m not pretending otherwise.