Nope.
There wasn’t a single reason for there to be two big beds in one smallish room.
He ripped his tie off and clumsily undressed. Though he normally slept in pajama bottoms, he headed toward the bed wearing nothing but boxers, because there was no way in hell he was digging in his suitcase for his shit right now. Crawling into the bed, he grunted, rolled over onto his side, and promptly fell asleep.
The next thing he was fully conscious of was waking up, a warm body pressed to his. A warm, naked body. He ran his hands down the curves of the woman next to him, still lost in the fog of sleep. When had he brought someone back to his place?
Had he gone out drinking last night?
When his hand roamed over the woman’s bare breast, she moaned and arched her back. Desire clenched his gut, and he rubbed against her bare ass. Her breast fit inside his hand perfectly, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling something so damn right before. Nuzzling her neck, he slid his hand down her side, inching over her flat stomach, eager to explore the rest of her body.
He slid his fingers in between thin thighs. She was hot and wet. Groaning, he arched against her ass again. Hot damn, she had a nice ass.
And she smelled good.
Like plumeria.
The only reason he knew that particular fragrance was because he’d bought it for Anna at Bath & Body Works every Christmas for the past ten years of his life, and he loved the way it smelled on her…
Anna.
Plumeria.
Naked woman.
Wedding.
And just like that, he remembered exactly where he was with painful clarity. He was at the Hamiltons’ house. Drunk. In a woman’s room. With his hand between the legs of someone who smelled like Anna and felt better than heaven. He yanked his hand free and scooted away, squinting through the darkness that wasn’t so dark anymore, his heart pounding against his ribs harder than a jackhammer.
Pictures of the Hamilton family surrounded him.
And there, by the light, a picture of him and Anna at his graduation.
They had their arms around each other, and her eyes were sparkling with happiness. He remembered that day very well. She’d told him she couldn’t be more proud of him. She was the only one to say so.
She’d been sixteen.
With a sense of impending dread, he turned his head to the woman still asleep in bed. Her blonde curls were achingly familiar. There was no doubt whose body he’d been caressing. And he’d held her breasts. Slipped his fingers inside her…
Son of a bitch, how was he supposed to forget how she fit in his hand to perfection or how soft her skin was against his? And how the hell was she not moving?
Touching her had shaken him off his goddamn core, and she was still asleep?
He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not.
Moaning again, she rolled over, rubbing her eyes and blinking at him. Her eyes were still soft with sleep, and a smile curved her lips upward. Even half asleep, she smiled at him. His heart thudded forcefully against his chest when she reached a hand out to his shoulder, touching his bare skin. “Am I dreaming again?”
Again?
Did she dream about him a lot?
Shit fuck damn.
He swallowed hard. He almost forgot he wasn’t supposed to be here because of her fingers on his skin. Now he’d never forget how she felt, all naked and curled up in his arms. “I’m afraid not. I…I think I’m in the wrong room.”
The sleep faded away from her eyes, and she sat upright, eyes wide with horror. Clutching the sheet to her chest, she looked at him in horror. “Oh my God. What are you doing in my bed? I’m naked, Brett.”
He rolled out of the bed and held his hands out. “I know. I, uh, kind of noticed.”
“Oh. My. God.” Her cheeks passed pink, passed red, and went straight to that color he could never remember the name of. Fuchsia? Magenta? Did it even matter? God, he needed some fucking Advil. “You’re not wearing any pants. What did we do? Did we…are we…?”
“No. Christ. Nothing happened.” He picked up his pants, his hands trembling. Except something kind of had. “Jesus, Anna, don’t you think you’d wake up if I fucked you?”
Her cheeks flushed redder. “I’d hope so.”
So did he. Backing up a step, he avoided her eyes. “This was an accident. I’m sorry. So damn sorry.”
For more reasons than one.
She shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.”
“Right. No big deal.”
That might be the biggest lie he ever told, because it was a big fucking deal. Now he knew how she felt in his arms—and he wanted more. A hell of a lot more. Shit.
Her eyes widened and she gasped, pressing a hand to the sheet that covered her breasts. Her focus wasn’t on his face, though. It was decidedly southward…