Page 66 of Doc Showmance
“You saying you can’t make it happen if we tried?” I moved my hand to the front of his pants, but could feel he was already turned on. “Seems like everything’s working.”
“You’ll regret this tomorrow.”
“I only regret sex if my partner sucks in bed. Being optimistic here, but I hope that won’t be the case.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
I put his face between my hands and pulled him to look at me. “Get out of your head. We’re not on camera for one freaking second. How about you kiss me again and then we make decisions?”
He tensed.
I moved my hands to link them behind his head and gently pulled. With a groan, he met me more than halfway, his lips crashing onto mine. Neither of us breathed as he plundered my mouth and moved us inside the room, kicking the door shut.
Needing my hands on his skin, I untucked his shirt and worked my hands from the underside up to glide over his hot, smooth skin. He pulled away for a moment to undo the first few buttons and tug the shirt over his head. This man worked out. Not saying he was like the triathlete who had sat next to me, but what I’d seen on Ian’s show when he got his shirt off to swim with dolphins was real. I stroked along the smooth skin of his back around to his front. Meanwhile, he didn’t stop kissing.
My dress fell to the floor in a heap. I glanced down at the abandoned fabric, surprised. I hadn’t realized his fingers had been at work.
He picked me up as if I weighed nothing, which isn’t true. I’m solid. But he lifted and carried me to the bed.
“I’d prove to you I can do wall sex magic, but I drank too much to organize it. I don’t want to fall over and validate your past experiences.” He touched one breast and then the other, his mouth kissing down to one peak and working my nipple with his tongue. “These are perfect.”
Breaths came hard and rough.
Reality crashed in. After too many beers to count and a few glasses of wine…
“I…um…can you excuse me for a moment to…restroom?”
He leaned back against the headboard and waved at the bathroom.
By the time I returned, which couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, he lay prone on the bed. I pushed at him gently. “Ian?”
Intermittent rumbly snores came out.
With a sigh, I excavated my flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt from my suitcase, brushed my teeth, and managed to push Ian a bit off the center of the bed to claim a space.
24
Amber
Icouldn’t move.
I blinked into immediate alertness. Whose expensive drapes were those? Whose sheets were these?
The light from the window… I felt like one of my eyes was about to explode from the inside out. With a groan, I tried to roll away from the light but couldn’t.
Something wrapped around me. I forced my eyelids open to find Ian’s arm slung over my shoulder and a heavy leg draped over mine. For a half a moment I appreciated the strength in his arm and the heat radiating off his naked skin. But I allowed myself only one moment. His arm was heavy, so I pushed it off me.
What happened last night?
I covered my face with a hand to shield from the daylight, which did nothing to assuage the hammering inside my skull. I remembered Seth and agreeing to see the senator’s dog at work. I got seated at the loser table and drank a lot.
My stomach rolled with a red alarm warning. Head pain fell into the background as I wiggled free and ran for the bathroom, barely making it before my stomach emptied.
I backed up with trembling legs until I hit the bathroom wall and slid to the floor, cradling my head. I was dying. Why had I done this? I always overestimated how much alcohol I could handle. Reality always caught up to me. Maybe I could function okay the night of drinking, but the morning after sucked.
What happened last night? I vaguely recalled kissing Ian in the car and liking it.
Oh my God.
