Page 52 of The Holiday Fakers
One eyebrow raises. “Defiled?”
He’s so hot with his hair all messy and his eyes a little puffy with sleep. But I can’t think about that right now. I did a bad thing. A very bad thing.
A thing he was trying to stop …
“Yes! Verily!” I reply without thinking. “I mean, very. One hundred percent. Absolutely. Imauledyou!”
The corners of his mouth twitch.
“It’s not funny, Brody! I was out of control! Invading your personal space! Violating your boundaries like a …”Sex maniac?
“You were asleep,” he says. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”
“It doesn’t make it okay!” I run my fingers through my hair and tug the roots with embarrassment and frustration. “Why couldn’t I just sleeptalk? Or walk? Why did I have to … sleephump?”
Brody’s laugh is warm. “It’s no biggie. And you do sleep talk.”
Oh. My. God.
A memory of me asking him to fuck me surfaces from the jumble of my fading dream.
No. Oh no, no, no, no, no!
All the blood drains from my face as I stare at him, too petrified to ask what I said.
“Don’t worry, nothing incriminating.”
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
He nods. “It’s just a stream of mumbled nonsense, punctuated by a few English words.”
“What kind of words?”
His forehead furrows. “Last night, you yelled ‘vision’ really loudly.”
“Vision?”
“Yep.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nope, just vision. Do you know what you were dreaming about?”
I shake my head. “No clue. What else did I shout?”
“Nothing more last night. About ten minutes ago, you shouted, ‘Right now!’ and it woke me up.”
I drop my head with a groan. “I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was—” He clears his throat. “It’s fine.”
Scrambling to my feet, I hastily grab clothes from the dresser and head to the door. “I’m going to take a cold shower, thengo downstairs,” I say to the floor, unable to meet Brody’s eyes. “Meet you there?”
“Sure. But it’s okay, Piper. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did.” I meet his gaze. “What if it had been the other way around?”
His face falls, and he looks stricken. “I … I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”
