Oh my God. What happened last night?
"Are you there? Are you okay?"
"No," I said, covering my eyes as if that would block out what was in my head. No such luck. "I mean, yes, I'm okay."
"There you are," she said, sounding relieved. "For a hot minute I thought you'd been abducted and were trying to give me a sign of where to send the police."
"No, it must be a … bad connection or something." Another memory-the feel of threading my fingers through his long hair … I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to block out what I knew to be impossible. There was no way I'd done that, and definitely not with him. I was hallucinating. Someone slipped something in my drink. Or I'd had too much Goldschläger, and-
Oh dammit. I'd had Goldschläger. The bowels of hell itself couldn't have been more horrifying.
" … and I wanted to run it by you," Ryleigh finished, but I couldn't have guessed at what she'd been saying.
"Uh, sorry, could you repeat that?"
There was a pause. "You sure you're all right? If this is a bad time, I can call back."
"No, it's fine, really. I just had a late night. What's up?" Other than the fact that I might've slept with enemy number one.
"Oh, that's right, you're working. I'll call when you get back to L.A.-"
"Ryleigh. Spit it out."
"Okay, okay," she said, over the sound of chattering in the background and fifties music, which meant she was at Licked. I made myself focus on what she was saying and not the … other distractions. I'd think about that later.
"I got a call this morning that Heather broke her leg skiing at Keystone over the weekend, which means I'm down a server for the next few weeks. I've already scheduled time off for the rest of the girls, and I hate to backtrack on that, so I thought I'd see- Shit, hang on." She pulled the phone away. "No, we can't serve the Blue Balls sundae today," I heard her say. "Why not? Because Amber accidentally added red food coloring and now they're purple, that's why. So unless we want to do a one-day special and call it Kicked in the Groin … hold up. That's not a bad idea. A pretty damn good one, actually … Go add it to the board and tell the others." Then she came back on the line. "Sorry, Paige, I- Wait, hang on again. Hey-don't forget the brown sprinkles," she called out. "All right, I'm back."
"Brown sprinkles on bruised balls for dessert? Classy, Ry." I chuckled, and then winced when the movement sent a shot of pain through my skull.
"Don't pretend like you wouldn't be all over that if you were here. If anyone appreciates a good groin kick, it's you."
I smiled at her words and thought of the time just last week when I'd had to pull that move out after an ass-groping while I'd been walking into the Roosevelt. My friends knew me well. "True. So, what is it you need my help with?"
Ryleigh blew out a breath. "You mentioned the other day that you knew of a couple girls looking for internships."
"Yeah … "
"Well, I need them. Pretty please. If they're still free."
"Of course. I'll touch base with them and-"
The sound of a keycard beeping cut my words off, and then my hotel room door opened. I watched, stunned, as Dawson came striding inside with a large brown bag on his arm and a full coffee carrier. He smiled when he saw me, although he didn't look surprised to see me still in bed, mouth hanging wide open.
"Good morning, love," he said, setting the bag labeled Fuel Cafe on the desk. As he began to unload the contents, he winked at me over his shoulder. "I thought you could use some caffeine after last night."
Oh … my … God.
My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head, especially when I noticed that although his shoulder-length hair was damp, as though he'd recently showered, he was still dressed in his clothes from last night. His more-than-slightly rumpled clothes from last night …
"Paige, is that Dawson?" Ryleigh asked. "Why is he in your room?"
"Uh … " I sputtered, my mind completely obliterated.
"And what does he mean by 'last night'? Did you guys-"
"Gotta go, Ry, call you later." I hit the end button before she could say another word, and then, in case she called back, turned the thing completely off. When I looked up at Dawson, he was full-on grinning, but he wasn't looking at me. No, his eyes were focused farther down, on my-
"Shit," I said, yanking the sheet up to cover my naked body, and a low rumble of laughter left his throat.
"A little late for modesty, don't you think?" he asked, picking up one of the steaming coffee cups and coming forward to the side of the bed.
"You can't sit," I said, pointing at the door. "You're not staying."
"No? You gonna get up and make me leave?" He waggled his brows and then planted himself on the bed, holding the cup out for me to grab.
"I don't want that. I want to know what the hell you're doing in here and how you got a key."
Dawson spread himself out across the end of the bed and leaned his head against his fist. "I'm sure the answer to the first will come back to you soon enough, and as for the second-you gave it to me."
I gave him my key? What the hell was this fuckery?
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that."
"Wouldn't you? You don't seem to know yourself very well, Pita. Perhaps I should remind you." He leaned forward and tilted his head to the side, coming straight for my lips.
He is not about to kiss me. There's no way.
But he wasn't stopping, and I had to let go of the hold I had on the sheet to hold out my hand and stop him from coming any farther.
"Explain what the hell is going on, or by God, I'll use that plastic pastry knife on the appendage of yours you're so fond of."
A surprised laugh left Dawson's throat, but it soon died out and a furrow formed on his brow. "You're serious?" he asked.
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
He did another once-over, and I kept my body rigid and ready to attack if he tried any funny moves again. He noticed, and when his gaze met mine again, there was an expression there that seemed almost … sad.
Sad? That couldn't be right. Melancholy was not an emotion Dawson had ever experienced in his life.
"I see," Dawson said, and just as quickly as the look had come, it passed. "Well. What do you want to know?"
"What happened last night, for starters."
"Okay." He took a long sip of his coffee. "Let's just say I took you up on your offer."
"My offer? To … what? Make horrible decisions caused by an excessive amount of gold-flecked demon juice that was forced into my veins by a manwhoring narcissist and then black out?"
He nodded. "That would be the one."
"That explains so much," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Then I asked the question I didn't actually want to know the answer to. "You didn't … I mean, we didn't … did we? Tell me fast."
"Really?" His expression turned to one of a wounded puppy. "You're killing my ego here, Paige."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
Dawson sighed and pushed off the bed, getting to his feet. Then his jacket came off, landing on the bed with a soft swish. Followed by him unbuttoning his shirt …
I held up my hand. "Stop right there. I didn't say I wanted to get it on with you. I'm asking if we did. I appreciate the strip show, but you can keep your clothes on and Channing your Tatum some other time. Preferably in front of someone else."
"You know as well as I do that you'll want proof." His shirt fell open, and he let it slide off his broad shoulders and fall to the floor. "So, I'm going to give it to you."
I gulped, my eyes huge as I took in every sculpted inch of him. Jesus, you never knew what someone was hiding underneath. He hadn't had abs like that nine years ago, had he? Sure, he'd been in shape, but … wow. No wonder the guy got around. I would too if my abs were cut from fucking granite.
"I don't recall you being quite so silent last night," he said, and after I forced my eyes away-before I started drooling-I scowled at him.
"Getting naked doesn't prove anything," I said, trying to sound dismissive, though the reaction my body was having to his hadn't escaped my notice. My skin felt like it was on fire, my pulse had kicked up, and there was no way I could deny the dull throb between my thighs that was growing stronger with every passing second. I also couldn't deny that my body felt thoroughly used, which only ever happened after a marathon fuck sesh, and when Dawson turned around to show me his back, there was no doubt left in my mind as to what had happened last night.
There were bright red lines that went from the top of his neck all the way down-someone's nails had gotten to him in a desperate way in the last few hours, and I had a horrible feeling that someone was …
Me.
Me.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
"Oh noooooo." I moaned, my head dropping into my free hand. What the hell had I been thinking? I'd slept with my one-time best friend turned frenemy, or whatever he was, and I couldn't even remember it? That wasn't just horrifying-that was embarrassing. "How could you let us do that?" I said, peeking through my fingers to make sure Dawson was putting his shirt back on. He was. Thank baby Jesus.