Page 36 of The Rule Book

Like a lot, a lot.

Lying on my back seems to be intensifying the headache, so I try to roll onto my side. But I can’t because there’s a tree trunk holding me down. I swing my gaze to the right, and that’s when I realize I’m not alone. A man is in my bed. Oh god, not just any man. My ex-boyfriend turned ex-client is asleep beside me.

No, no, no.This is bad. Very bad.

Also very warm and snuggly.But no! Don’t think like that, Nora!

Derek’s big, heavy arm is draped over my midriff, and I can’t breathe. I give it a moment’s thought and decide I might be okaywith being smothered to death so I don’t have to deal with whateverthisis.

I reach back into the gin-soaked corners of my mind to figure out what events led to this big mistake. Yikes, it hurts to think. Like pounding, throbbing, stabbing sort of pain. The special brand of agony that follows an entire night of drinking and not eating enough or hydrating.

How does a person know if they have alcohol poisoning? Asking for a friend.

But seriously, how did this happen? I haven’t let go like that since—well, since I was last dating Derek. I should have known better. He always had a way of pulling me into his orbit of fun until I’m just flying round and round with my hands in the air like I just don’t care.

It appears we obliterated rule number fourteen: No drinking together.

I shut my eyes again and make a squeak of anguish before shoving my arm into Derek’s shoulder. “Hey! Wake up, you!”

He sucks in a breath like he was just resuscitated. “Huh?” Derek lifts his face long enough for me to see a pillow line slashing down the side of his cheek—almost making him look approachable rather than his usual hulking Thor vibes.

He groans, shoving his face back into the pillow, but doesn’t remove his arm. The man is sprawled out like an eagle in flight. A shirtless, freakishly toned eagle, and god he is a sight to behold. His body is impeccable. And somehow even more massive-looking with a sheet draped over his lower half. I’m surprised his arm hasn’t broken my rib cage.

Against my better judgment, my eyes trace the curves and hollows of the muscles lining his shoulders and back. The taut skin spreading over those muscles and the faded black tattoos dotting theexpanse of his back and arms. And before I know it, I’m leaning toward the heat glowing from his body.

Oh my gosh, wait. Is he naked? Am I naked? This whole thing is going to become sixteen times more awkward if we have to be naked together while sober. It’s been a long time since that phenomenon has occurred with Derek. So long it’s practically like it never happened. Besides, we were young. Inexperienced.

I happen to know that the man lying beside me is not even in the same ballpark as inexperienced anymore. Nothing about him is like the gangly guy who sweetly took my virginity in college. It almost feels like waking up next to a stranger. And yet…familiar at the same time.

I do a quick pat-down of my body under the sheets, and thankfully, I seem to be fully clothed. Still wearing everything but my shoes. I’m nervous to peek under the covers at Derek, but I will because I’m a big girl and can do this.

If I had a breath to spare, I would sigh with relief at the sight of Derek’s dress pants hugging his lower half, but I don’t thanks to his heavy arm. Is it healthy for obliques to be that defined? I’m not sure you’re supposed to be able to see them while someone sleeps and yet, here we are.

I smack Derek’s boulder-filled arm a few times. “Derek. Move. I can’t breathe!”

He slides it off like he’s pulling it out of quicksand, and then flops over onto his back. Silence has never been louder as we stare at the ceiling. From the corner of my eye, I see his chest—so tan against the crisp white sheets—rising and falling. And I glimpse the tattoos there too, although I can’t get a good look at them from this angle. Something with wings for sure.

“Am I in your bed?” His voice is sandpaper. Sexy,sexysandpaper.

I need to get out of these sheets.

“It would appear so.”

Silence again.

“That’s not good.”

“Not good at all.” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to relieve the pounding. “What do you remember?”

He groans, apparently feeling as wonderful as I do. “Not much after that first round of shots.” Like something hits him in the stomach, he jolts up. “Oh shit, cover your ears.”

Derek charges for the bathroom. Unfortunately, hearing his less than graceful consequences of too much alcohol has me catapulting after him.

“Move, move, move!” I yell as he flushes, and then I take over where he left off.Wonderful. Such a glorious morning. A beautiful day in the neighborhood!

The bright bathroom lights are harsh and the very necessary exhaust fan sounds like a jet engine. Derek turns on the sink faucet and leans over to rinse his mouth. I can’t even bring myself to care that he’s witnessing everything that’s happening to me right now or that I just witnessed it from him. We are in survival mode. I think I might be crying into the toilet bowl too.

What have I become?

---