His head turns in what feels like slow motion until those deep brown eyes land on me. His lips part but he says nothing for a moment. Just lets his gaze roam lazily over me.
“Sophie?” he croaks. “What’s going on?”
“You’re in my bed.”
He looks down at the tiny flowers on my coverlet. “I can see that. Have I been here all night?”
“You don’t remember?” I try to not sound annoyed.
Liam shakes his head slowly then winces. “Christ, what did I drink last night? Was it legal?”
“Mostly margaritas.”
He lifts a brow. “I don’t even like cocktails.”
“You seemed to like them last night.” I shrug because his choice of tipple isn’t my top priority right now. “Um, you need to leave.” I make a shooing motion with my hands in case he doesn’t get it.
He puts his hand up, looking slightly more with it. “Wait a minute. Were you in the bed, too?”
“It’s my bed,” I tell him. “So yes, I was.”
“And we…” He nods his head.
I take a deep breath. “Yes.”
His eyes widen. “Did we use protection?”
Dear God, this man is going to kill me. “I’m covered. Now can you leave?”
“But we should talk.”
“What about?”
“Was it okay?” he asks. “Was it good for you?”
My cheeks heat up. “Good for me as in did I…”
“Yeah. Did you?” His eyes don’t leave mine.
I shake my head. That’s the truth at least.
He sits up and runs his hands through his mussed up hair. Then he twists on the mattress and plants his feet onto my carpeted floor. The sheet still covers the important parts, thank God, because I don’t think I could face that right now.
“Sophie,” he says slowly. “You’re lying.”
My cheeks pink up. “What?”
“I always make sure a woman comes. Always. Multiple times.”
Dear God, he’s taking this as a personal failure. I just want him to go.
“Yes, you told me that at the bar.”
He frowns. “I did? What else did I say?”
“That you never sleep with a woman more than once.” I lift a brow because that’s the truth. He was drunk and so was I and somehow we started talking about relationships.
He doesn’t have them, apparently.