Page 7 of Not So Casual

“I can’t believe you just carried me out of the fucking club.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re being a brat, Elias.” My fingers have a death grip on the steering wheel, thinking about him in that club with random hands all over his body. Taking a breath, I give myself a second to calm down.

Driving out onto the street, I glance over to see Elias is fuming, his hand clenched tightly in a fist, his eyes never leaving the window. Not wanting to add more fuel to the fire, I focus my eyes back onto the road.

We drive in silence for a few minutes. Switching lanes onto the freeway, I start to ask him his address when I hear a soft snore filling the quiet. Glancing over, I see his head thrown back, his mouth open, the sounds of his snoring softly filling my car. My heart squeezes, seeing him like this. I quickly flick the blinker and take the exit, heading in the direction of my condo.

Looks like he’s coming home with me tonight.

Elias

Blinking my eyes open, a bright light hits them, causing me to flinch. Groaning, I quickly close them again and roll over into the fetal position, bringing my knees to my chest.

Fuck. Why the hell does my head hurt so much?

Licking my teeth, I gag, my mouth dry and nasty. Why does my mouth taste so disgusting?

Even though my head is pounding, I slowly open my eyes again to grab the glass of water I always leave next to my bed. Reaching over to my nightstand, my hand finds nothing but air, so I lift my head to look around, my eyes widening when I realize I have no clue where I am. I slowly sit up, taking in my surroundings, wondering where the fuck I’m at.

I’m lying in a massive bed, much bigger than mine, with a warm blue plush comforter wrapped around me. Across from the bed is a wide screen TV mounted on the wall on top of a dresser. Scanning the other side of the room, there’s a huge, black wing back chair right next to a bookshelf filled with books.

Where the hell am I?

Debating whether I should be freaking the hell out, I freeze and my heart stops when I hear the door handle to the bedroom door turn. I’m about to scream when Alexander fills the doorway. My breath comes out in a whoosh, the panicky feelings quickly dissipating. He starts to say something, but I don’t hear him because now that I’m not worried about being killed, I can’t concentrate on anything but what he’s wearing, or rather, what he’s not wearing.

Gazing up and down his body, I take in his chiseled chest, and his perfect abs on display. A dark little happy trail goes from his belly button to the top of his sweats, and I want to follow it with my tongue. Moving lower, I eye his gray sweatpants, the outline of his dick in view. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to see what he’s hiding in those sweatpants. When my eyes finally reach his, he’s staring at me, his eyebrow raised in questioning.

Busted.

“Ugh. I should have known it was your place.”

I throw myself back onto the bed, groaning and regretting that decision the second my head starts pounding again.

Alexander chuckles, and by the soft padding of his feet on the floor, he’s walked farther into the room.

“Take this. You look like you need it.”

Cracking open one eye, I see he’s holding Tylenol in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Sitting up, I reach for both with gimme hands, popping the Tylenol and washing it down with the water.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Rubbing the nape of his neck, he looks at me sheepishly. “You passed out in my car last night, so I figured it was easier for you to crash here. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s good. I’m fine. I mean, it’s fine,” I stammer out.

Alexander quickly shakes his head and smiles. “How’d you like my bed?”

“Your bed? I thought this was your guest room.” Looking around the room again, I see it differently, knowing this is his personal space. It suits him, though. There’s not much color in his room, mostly blacks and gray, but there are books and pictures of maps on the wall. It’s all very sophisticated, like Alexander.

“No, this is my room. I don’t have a guest room. But I slept on the couch, in case you were wondering.”

Of fucking course. I’ve been wanting to get into Alexander’s bed for years, and this is how it happens. Just my fucking luck.

“It was great. Thank you.”

“The way you were behaving last night, I’m sure you have a killer hangover. I’m making some breakfast if you want to come join me and eat.”

“Oh. Uh… Okay.”

---