Page 19 of Miss Understood

I pinch my eyes closed tighter and cringe. I’m pretty sure I got very familiar with my boss’s dick on the dance floor last night. Every last one of the many inches of it. And what a glorious dick it is. Men’s bodies don’t usually make me nervous, but the thickness I felt through his pants gave me goose bumps.

I can’t believe I let that happen. All it took was some heavy petting from the bartender and a few too many drinks, and I was on Jesse like a cat in heat.

Maybe I can accidentally miss my flight today and avoid being stuck next to him on the plane. I have no doubt he’s already wide awake and gloating, planning every barb he intends to shoot my way.

All I can do is hope Jesse’s night was as blurry as mine. Then we can chalk this whole mess up to Vegas and laugh about it. After all, there’s the saying for a reason, right?What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?

I try peeking my head out of the covers again, but the light makes the throbbing in my head pound harder. If I can’t peel myself out of this bed, I really will be missing my flight.

I stretch out in frustration, and my arm hits something solid beside me. Opening my eyes under the covers, I realize it’s not just something—it’s someone. A very solid hunk of a very naked someone.

“What the?” I pop straight up to sitting, still fighting with the blinding sunlight. But I don’t need to see properly to know what I’ve gotten myself into. Jesse is sprawled out, completely naked, in my bed beside me. Those long slabs of solid muscle cascade down him.

He couldn’t be more perfect if Michelangelo had carved him himself.

This is bad.

Very, very bad.

Jesse’s eyes shoot open as I fly out of the covers, but the sunlit room gets him for a moment too. He rubs his palms down his face, trying to wake his eyes up.

“You’re naked.” It couldn’t sound more juvenile, but it’s all I can think as I’m staring at the most impressive dick I’ve ever seen. And, first thing in the morning, it’s rock-hard and standing at attention.

I cannot be thinking this about my boss and his dick. I can’t be seeing him like this. Crap, what if I fucked him and I don’t remember it? Would that even be possible? I mean, look at his dick. Could I actually forget that?

No.

No, no, no.

Jesse finally looks down. “Shit, I am.” He tugs at the comforter and covers himself to his waist. But when his eyes focus on me, they go wide and his face freezes. “Luce.”

“No, I don’t know how we got here,” I say, running my hands through my hair.

“Not what I was going to say, but good to know.” His eyes move down, down, down, like he’s undressing me with every inch. Except when I follow his gaze, I realize there’s no need, because I’m already standing in front of him in all my glory.

“Crap.” I drop to the floor, as if crawling into a ball can somehow hide me. Normally I’m confident in my skin, hitting up nude beaches when I actually do take a vacation, flaunting what I’ve got. But Jesse’s eyes peeled back every bit, every insecurity, and I just feel one thing:

Naked.

A sheet parachutes over me, and I quickly wrap it around me on the floor. “Thanks.”

He nods and sits himself up in the bed, looking every bit as confused as I feel.

“Your room?” he says.

Looking around, I spot my suitcase in the corner, and my laptop is sitting on the desk. “Yes. Guess we made it back here.”

“Fuck,” Jesse says, scratching the short stubble on his head. “Where did it fade out for you?”

I try to think back, remembering Pearsons and the band with the woman with the pink hair. The bartender with the tongue ring who tried to convince me to go home with him. Jesse scaring away Sin City Barbie. Dancing with Jesse and getting instantly wet.

We had another round of shots before we left.

Ending up at a bar with an Italian theme?

“Limoncello and some guy in a beret,” I say finally.

Maybe it was Paris?

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