Page 67 of Pucking Sweet

“Morning,” I say in a bored tone.

She shrieks, all but falling out of the bed as she stands, dragging the comforter with her. “Lukas, what are you doing in my room?”

“Try again, Princess,” I tease, my chest hollow as I take in the look of shock on her face. “This is my room.”

She looks around, still disoriented. Her eye makeup is smeared, giving her dark circles like a sexy little raccoon. She spies my backpack on the chair, my tablet charging by the TV. “No.” She shakes her head. “No, I went back to my room.Pleasetell me I went back to my room.”

“You didn’t have a key, remember? Still don’t.”

She groans, holding her head with one hand as she clutches the comforter to her half-naked body with the other. “Oh, my lord in heaven, this pounding in my head is like hail on a tin roof.”

“Blame Tina. Too many Jax Ray cocktails.”

“Everything is so fuzzy,” she whimpers. “Please tell me this is a dream. Am I dreaming? Did we really have sex last night?”

My shoulders tense. “You said you weren’t drunk—”

“I wasn’t,” she cries. “At least, I didn’t think I was—but I have absolutely no memory of anything that happened after the ice machine. Even that feels like this big, hazy…blur.”

Okay, fuck this. I toss my phone to the bed. “Wow, I didn’t know there was a level of so-thoroughly-fucked it causes memory loss. I guess I should add that to the ‘special skills’ section of my online dating profile, eh?”

She groans again. “Sure, you can add it right above ‘flexing in mirrors’ and ‘skating into walls at high speed.’”

I flip back the sheet and swing my legs off the bed. “Well, we both agreed this was for one night only. And I already bent my iron rules by letting you stay here so—”

“Wait, youletme stay here?” She blinks over at me. “What the heck does that mean?”

“Well, you were all sad and desperate, begging me to fuck you last night. Remember that?”

“Vaguely,” she replies, still clutching to that damn comforter. Is she trying to hide from me or herself? Either way, I’m pissed.

“Afterward, I used my room key, and I let you in here to crash—oh, a room key is this little thing, shaped like a credit card.”

She glares at me. “Iknowwhat a room key is, Lukas, even if I no longer seem to have one.”

“So, you remember that part too? Good,” I say, nodding again. “Well, like I said, I generally don’t let my hookups stay over, but I made an exception for a sad, desperate friend.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I watch her stumble, muttering under her breath as she looks for her clothes. “I realize now I never got the 411 onwhyyou were so sad and desperate—”

“And you won’t.” She drops to one knee to scoop up her discarded dress. “What time is it?”

“Just after six.”

She bolts upright, eyes wide. “What? We have to check out within the next thirty minutes!” She drops the comforter and shimmies into her dress, trying to put it on while still keeping my T-shirt on.

Oh, she wants a little modesty now? I stand up with my back to her, pretending to stretch as I just wait for her to—

“Oh my—Lukas, why are you naked?”

I slowly turn, flashing her the front too. She’s standing there with her arms inside my too-large T-shirt, those cute little raccoon eyes wide as she takes me in. That she can still blush should be precious. Instead, it just pisses me off further. “Sweetheart, I’ve been naked,” I tease. “You fucked me naked, right here in this bed. You slept next to this nakedness all night long.”

“Well, it’s morning now,” she says, shouldering her way into the straps of her dress. “And mornings are for clothes. Find some.”

“Mornings are for clothes? Is that one of your sweet little Nana’s sayings?”

She gasps. Tugging off my T-shirt, she wads it up in a ball and throws it at me. “My sweet little Nana isdead, you jerk. Now put that on. And find some pants. I’m tired of looking at your Little Lukas.”

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