I don’t want to feel attracted to him.
Because I am. And I have been for a while … just like I’ve wondered about him. Of course I’ve thought about Noah as more than my brother’s friend. More than once. More than twice, if I’m being honest. It’s like someone putting a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries in front of you and not thinking about eating one. Wondering how fast the chocolate will melt in your mouth. Wanting to know how sweet and juicy the strawberry is, how good it will feel as it pushes past your lips and hits your tongue.
He’s not be the ideal hookup, but he’s attractive and he knows it, and I always assumed he knows his way around a woman’s body. And, of course, I had a chance to see just how good he is and I can’t remember a fucking thing.
I let out a breath and flick my eyes to the bed. Noah is still sleeping. He’s on his back and is naked, with the blanket barely covering his junk, which is disappointing. I hoped to check out the equipment used to rail me last night. He has one arm above his head, and the other is wrapped around Sasha, who’s snuggled up with her head on his chest.
Even I have to admit that’s adorable. Vader has taken over my spot, sprawled out and comfy. Waking up to this—a hot guy cuddled in my bed with my dogs—is something I can get used to.
If only that hot guy wasn’t Noah.
I creep to the other side of my room and get clean underwear, leggings, and a sweatshirt. I go into the hall to get dressed, then sneak into the living room.
My pajama pants are on the couch. So are Noah’s boxers. Well, I guess that answers where I got the rug burns. The bottle of tequila is on its side, and it’s empty. My stomach churns just looking at it.
The shot glasses are on the floor, and there is a stain on the coffee table from spilled booze. I grab the bottle, glasses, and my pants. I find my shirt when I go into the kitchen. The shock is leaving and I’m feeling like complete and total shit from being hungover as fuck.
I force myself to drink an entire glass of water before I fire up the coffee pot. I need to eat something, and I’m starving and nauseous at the same time. I drink another glass of water, have to pee again already, then finally pour a cup of coffee.
I bring it to my face and inhale, the aroma instantly soothing my nerves. There is almost nothing a good cup of coffee can’t solve.
Almost.
I mix in just a bit of creamer and grab the bag of bread that was left out on the counter from last night. I think I made sandwiches. Knowing I should eat something, I put two pieces of bread in the toaster and get out the butter. That seems safe, and will put something other than bile and leftover tequila in my stomach.
I feed the dogs, get my toast, then sit at the table carefully eating, still unable to remember exactly went down last night, other than Noah. On me. Because that’s how I’ve imagined it.
I squeeze my eyes shut. No. That wasn’t a tiny bit of desire that tingled my lady bits when I imagine his bearded face between my thighs, skin getting red from the burn of his facial hair.
Gah, no, just no!
I take another sip of coffee and let out a steadying breath. I might not remember what happened, but I’m sure I enjoyed it.
And I’m allowed to.
I lean back in the chair and take a few more sips of coffee, reminding myself what I did was more than okay, and I’m actually feeling a bit empowered. Everything is fine. It was one night. We never have to think about this again.
And I’m definitely no prude.
“Hey, baby,” Noah says, his voice thick with sleep. I turn, almost having forgotten he’s here, and quickly close my eyes. He’s naked, standing in the threshold of the kitchen. His hair is a rumbled mess, and there are pillow creases on his face.
He does not look adorable. I am not feeling turned on by the sight of his bare skin. I do not want to gaze at his glorious body, tattoos and muscles and that stupid V that guides my eyes to his perfect cock.
“I’m not your baby,” I say and stand to let the dogs out.
“Well you were last night.”
My hand freezes on the doorknob. Dammit. He remembers. “Well, I, uh…” I stumble over my words. Vader paws at the door. I shake myself and let both dogs out, then turn to face Noah.
Shit, I looked right at his package. And shit, it looks nice. Even now when it’s just hanging in front of him. I hold up my hand.
“Put some clothes on,” I say and Noah laughs. “I’m serious, Noah.”
“Fine, fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”
I force myself to look into his eyes. “We shouldn’t have done … whatever it is we did.”
“Ah, shit, you don’t remember either?” He walks through the kitchen—still bare-ass naked—and sits at my seat, eating my leftover toast. “I was hoping you’d at least tell me I rocked your world.”