But, most of all, he hated how much he hated it, because this hate was the strongest thing he’d felt in as long as he could remember, and not an ounce of it was numbed by the whiskey.
It was real, tangible, and every single bit of it was directed inwardly at himself, except for that little bit deep down that Darcy owned. That teeny, tiny bit of hate with her name on it, because she’d done something no one else had managed to do in four years.
It didn’t matter if what he was feeling was hate. It didn’t matter if he suspected he only felt the hate so strongly because he was ignoring what it was masking.
What mattered was that he was felt it. He was feeling.
And it was all her fault.
Dear Professor, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? Xoxo, Darcy.
The heavy weight of something draped across my body mixed with brightness streaming in through a window broke through my consciousness. Drowsily, I yawned, neither asleep nor awake, but still somehow cognizant.
There was something warm and hard next to me, and it took me a moment to realize that the something was in fact a someone.
Oh shit!
I forced my eyes open. It took me a moment to clear the sleepiness from my gaze, but when I focused, I froze. Strong eyebrows. Stubbly jaw. Soft, pink lips.
Holy crap.
I was in bed with Jordan.
Why that alarmed me far more than having sex with him did, I didn’t know. Maybe it was because my next thought was, Where the fuck am I? I didn’t know this room, so it wasn’t my room, which I guessed was a good thing…
My eyes came to rest on the dresser. Slowly, recognition fell over me and I remembered exactly where I was—his spare bedroom. But how the heck had I gotten up there? The last thing I could recall was being curled up in the corner of his sofa with my notes for my hypothetical prosecution case and then…
Oh no.
Fighting sleep.
I had fallen asleep. On his sofa. At his house.
How the hell had I gotten up…
Oh God. The thoughts were just coming in thick and fast. He must have brought me up there.
Oh sweet fuck. I was never going to live this down. How was I going to apologize for this? Would a blow job work? Maybe. That was pretty much all I had in my arsenal.
Jesus. Fuck. Shit. Crap. How could I have fallen asleep at his house? How could I have been so damn stupid?
More to the point… Why the hell was he in bed with me? Didn’t that go against everything we’d agreed? I didn’t realize we’d elevated to sleepovers from fucking.
I need a Mayday.
No, I needed an escape plan. Yes! That was it. I needed to sneak my way out of this bed and this house and…
A muffled sound like a half-assed snore escaped Jordan’s lips, and I froze once again. It seemed to have been a one-off thing, so I held my breath and scooted an inch toward the edge of the bed. He didn’t move, so I did it again, and again, and again, until I was right there on the edge and could just…
“What are you doing?”
My tongue darted out across my lips, and I looked over my shoulder. “I was trying to get out without disturbing you.”
“You didn’t do a very good job,” he rasped, his eyes still closed.
Fuck me. His morning voice was sexy.
“Apparently.” I wriggled over until I was all but balanced on the edge of the bed. “I’ll just get up and leave you to sleep.”#p#分页标题#e#
“What time is it?”
“Six.”
He clamped his arm around my stomach and yanked me back across the bed. For a man who sounded half-asleep, he had the sudden strength of the goddamn Hulk.
“My alarm doesn’t go off for thirty minutes. Go to sleep, Darcy.”
“I just woke up.” It was the lamest protest ever, especially since his half-hard cock was pressing between my butt cheeks.
“I don’t care.” He yawned. “I didn’t.” He pulled me right against him so my body was curved into his.
My eyes darted around the room. Why was cuddling more awkward than sex? I was sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to work. But cuddling was for sissies, right? It was all that intimate shit, like, “Let’s snuggle while I tickle your arm,” or, “Come and tuck into my side while I hold you tightly,” or, “Come here where I can put my hand up your shirt to grab your boob.”
Maybe nix the last one. That isn’t so emotionally intimate.
Was it wrong to hope that Jordan would creep his hand up my shirt to grab my boob? I just… I didn’t know what to do. It’d been a long-ass time since I’d been cuddled like this. I wasn’t sure I was ready for it or even liked it.
No. That was a lie. I did like it. That was the problem. I liked it. I liked the way his body felt behind me, hot and hard. Liked the way his arm was draped protectively over my side. Liked the way my hair fluttered each time he exhaled.