And partially out of it too.
She moaned and rolled over, dragging her pillow over her head. Maybe blissful unconsciousness would claim her again, and she could forget she’d come onto Kim’s brother while in a cold-induced fog. Come onto didn’t actually cover it. She’d commanded him to orally please her, for God’s sake.
And he had. Oh, he had.
How could she ever face him again?
Their brief conversation in the middle of the night didn’t count. She’d been half-asleep and feverish. His sweet attempts to take care of her had lulled her into not erecting her usual boundaries, whatever ones she had left.
Him seeing her sick wasn’t bad enough. Why not go for utter mortification? Flipping up her ginormous, old-fashioned nightgown and expecting him to distract her with pleasures of the flesh had been a great plan. They’d totally go back to their comfortable friendship now, despite the fact that he knew what she tasted like. And how she got really rough in the throes of climax. She’d probably yanked out clumps of his thick, silky hair.
“Ugh!” She groaned again and pulled the pillow down tight over her ears. Maybe she’d had a nightmare. Sometimes she did if she ate weird things before going to sleep. More than once she’d consumed Brad’s late-night junk food creations and paid for it afterward. But this went way beyond indigestion from fried bologna and pickle sandwiches. This was complete and total humiliation.
“Morning, Sara Smile.”
She went dead still in the center of her bed, forgetting even to breathe. No. Didn’t he have to work? It was Monday morning.
“Go away,” she pleaded, hoping he’d get the message. Now that the cough syrup was out of her system—hard to believe she could have such an extreme reaction to routine medication, but there you go—she could view this situation with an objective eye.
Brad simply wanted a rebound affair with someone he found reasonably attractive, preferably a woman who wouldn’t be difficult to extricate himself from afterward. He knew she wasn’t clingy. Maybe he even had a thing for older women.
She was nice-looking, even pretty, but parts of her body sagged that did not sag on the women he usually dated. She wasn’t blonde or particularly stacked. Her jeans were not size four or six. She had long hair, yes, but that was due to the ease of putting it up rather than a desire to seem young and sexy.
She was a doctor, an ornithologist. A professional. She wouldn’t start up some sort of sordid, reality TV-worthy affair with a guy young enough to—
Eat your pussy with enough skill to make you scream?
“Unhhh!” She thudded her forehead against the bed and prayed for oblivion.
The mattress dipped under his weight and she realized, much to her dismay, that time had not stood still while she rated herself on his potential scale. Dammit.
“Sara?” He tugged at her pillow but she wouldn’t let go. Nope. If she had to stay hiding under this pillow until he moved away from home, then that was exactly what she would do.
Instead of continuing to try to loosen her grip, he let go. Suspicious, she pushed up on her hands and knees as cool air swept over her heated flesh. Before she could protest, he yanked up her infernal nightgown and placed a kiss on her bare ass.
She shivered. She simply couldn’t help it. And he laughed, the low, prideful sound curling her toes and dampening the traitorous area between her legs that refused to allow her to be levelheaded about him.
She’d never had a problem with that before. Before she’d known the joy of his lips and his tongue and his hard body wrapping around hers in the night…
God, she was fucked.
He slid the nightgown higher and trailed kisses over the small of her back. “Want me to keep going?” he murmured, tracing the crack of her ass with one silken fingertip.
“Where’s Kim?” she whispered.
“Work. She went in early. Lucky for us she wasn’t here last night. Apparently her new guy picked her up before I got home. I wondered if she heard when you—”
“Can we not talk about that? Please?”
“Why? Are you embarrassed? I’m not. I wish I’d taped your sexy moans so I could replay them when I’ve got my cock in my hand and I’m thinking about you.”
She tossed aside the pillow and rolled over, shoving her tangled mass of hair out of her eyes. “You expect me to believe you masturbate to thoughts of me?”
The corner of Brad’s mouth tipped up. “Whatever clinical term you prefer, yeah, I do expect you to believe it. In fact, the next time you hear the shower running in my bathroom, why don’t you come inside and see for yourself?”
“That you jerk off doesn’t prove you’re thinking about me. Even if you are, what does that mean? Other than you’ve developed some kind of unhealthy fixation.”
“Unhealthy? Says who?” One eyebrow winged up, disappearing under the golden hair that crossed his forehead. He’d let his hair grow longer than he usually did, and she didn’t know if she liked it.