Page 49 of The Shake Off

I was still floating above my body when she eased off me, patting my shoulder as she collapsed face first into the pillow next to me. “Congratulations. You got your hat trick.”

It was the last thing she said before her breathing settled and she fell into the deepest sleep, while I was still watching her eyelashes flutter and wondering what the fuck just happened.

I might need to grow my balls back.

If that was how sex was supposed to go, thank fuck I didn’t keep the numbers of every girl I’d slept with, because I had a lot of apologies to make.

NINE

PAYTON

Iflicked through my clothes, making the hangers screech along the rail as loudly as possible. It was worse than nails down a chalk board, enough to have goosebumps erupt across my body, but the sight behind me remained unchanged.

The sight which I’d been trying very hard not to stare at.

The sight which had already made me late for work because a. I hadn’t wanted to get out of bed in the first place, and b. it was very distracting.

I wasn’t even sure he’d moved in the thirty minutes since I’d finally slipped out, showered as quickly as possible, then pulled on a bra and panties – a new pale pink pair I’d bought last week – all while I watched him sleep; but not in the creepy way, more like the ‘how has he not yet woken up yet?’ way.

I nudged the end of his foot again, but it didn’t make a difference. I’d learned the first time that dead people were easier to wake up than Ace Watson.

I knew he was alive, even with his face pressed into the heavy bicep flung over his head; I could tell from the soft rise and fall of his smooth, golden back, and the way his muscles contracted ever-so slightly with each quiet inhale. One of his thighs was curled around the comforter, stretching the fabric along a fading tan line and the curve of his ass.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to stand here all day and stare at him, or think about his dick, or fingers, or… Jesus, histongue… so I walked back into the bathroom in search of my makeup.

It was as I curled my lashes that I realized the reflection peering back at me wasn’t the one I usually saw. I mean, it was me… but it alsowasn’tme. It was like me five years ago, not the me I saw yesterday; the one who had me vowing to start getting earlier nights. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I’d already spent an hour contouring my face – something I would never do, because I had neither the patience nor the time for contouring. But there was…something.

I picked up the blush, then put it back down. My cheeks were already rosy enough. Instead, settled on a slick of eye pencil, a lashing of mascara, and a coat of my favorite berry red lipstick, followed with a quick brush of my hair and a run through with the curling iron. All done in under five minutes.

I could be accused of a lot of things, but high maintenance would not be one of them.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to make another attempt to wake Sleeping Beauty because when I walked out, he was sitting up in bed, the white comforter across his lap only emphasizing his ridiculously stacked abs and setting off his tan further, and making him look so impossibly handsome that I stopped in my tracks.

Jeez, whoseriouslywoke up looking that good? Even with that moustache…

I briefly wondered how many college girls had his poster in their dorm. If I’d had him on my wall, I’m not sure I’d have ever left the room.

“Good morning.” A broad grin split his face, showing off perfectly straight white teeth. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.” I smiled back, because I couldn’t help myself. His smile was infectious. “I don’t need to ask if you did…”

He stretched his arms over his head, lengthening his body back down the bed. His biceps flexed as he opened and closed his fists. I also didn’t fail to notice the impressive tenting in the comforter right where his dick was, and averted my eyes. I could still feel where that impressive tenting had been less than eight hours ago, and tried my best to ignore the heavy throb between my legs, just in case I needed reminding.

I didn’t.

Focus, Payton.

“I did. It seems I sleep very well in your bed.” He yawned before continuing, “Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s not early. It’s eight a.m.”

I could feel his eyes on me as I crossed the room to where I’d hung the clothes I’d picked for today – a white silk shirt and grey pencil skirt, with a pair of black Manolos Kit had given me for Christmas. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t take my time as I stepped into my skirt and slowly zipped myself up, knowing full well Ace was watching every move, but I peered up to find him looking at me with an expression I didn’t recognize. It was almost curiosity, especially when he sat up straighter and propped a pillow behind his head.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never seen a woman get dressed before.”

I shouldn’t have asked, and dropped my head so he didn’t see the smile I was wearing.

---