I sat up, tugging the sheet with me to cover my chest with something beyond my palms. "It's just never happened before. Not to me."
His eyes narrowed. "You need a larger sample size before you get to make broad statements like that."
Oh, right. I'd told him about my scanty romantic history, too. That was a blank I didn't need to have filled in.
I twisted my lip while I tried to think with an appropriate comeback.
Marc evidently didn't see any need to wait around while I did. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll, uh, be right back," he mumbled before standing and showcasing the firmest ass I'd had the pleasure of seeing. Like, ever. Like, not once in my daydreams. Like, not even in my occasional slip into the Tumblr rabbit hole had I seen such deliciousness.
Thank god the bathroom was on his side of the bed, and he couldn't see the way I stared after him until the door was shut behind him.
Then I threw my head back against the headboard. What had we done?
Perhaps more appropriate – – what had we not done?
Seriously, the humiliation was worse with the confirmation that Marc hadn't even been able to perform. Worse for him, yes, but also worse for me. Because a man who looked like that could be forgiven for any amount of bedroom mishaps. A nerdy little undersexed artist like myself? Yeah, I'd never live this down even if I were the only one who ever gave me shit about it.
I brought my fingers up to rub across my swollen lips. These at least had seen some action. My heart did a little flip-flop at the thought of kissing Marc Kirby. How had that been? How had he tasted? Bourbon-flavored, I'd guess, but what else? Did he kiss softly and tentatively? Or was he as aggressive as I wanted to imagine he'd been?
And wasn't this fucking typical. I'd actually kissed the hot guy for once, and I still didn't know the answers. Big fat chance that I'd get another opportunity like that again.
I rolled over so I could scream into his pillow. God, it smelled like him. A mixture of woodsy scents and mint.
The bathroom door opened, and I scrambled to gather the sheet around me so I could take my own turn without exposing any more of my body than necessary.
"Excuse me," I said, averting my eyes as I brushed past him. He still was buck naked, and it didn't seem appropriate to stare while he was facing me.
Though, I really was curious about what he was packing up front. Just, not quite brave enough to peek.
With the door shut, I leaned over the bathroom sink and waited for my stomach to settle from getting up too fast while hungover. One look in the mirror confirmed all I'd suspected about my appearance. My normally pale skin was actually ashen, my brown and purple-tipped hair was tangled in knots, and there was a deep red crease along the top of my cheek from where my glasses had pressed against my face in my sleep.
Super attractive. Obviously.
I straightened my specs, then turned on the sink and cupped my hands so I could hydrate. Finding some mouthwash on the counter, I tossed some back and swished it around while I ran my fingers through the rat's nest on top of my head. By the time I was ready to spit, I realized the endeavor was hopeless. And pointless. Marc had already seen me at my worst. It wasn't like I was going to be able to fix that impression with anything I did now.
One hand clutching the sheet, I put my other on the door handle and paused. Something in the mirror had caught my eye. I turned to look at the bathtub where the reflection was coming from and sure enough, there was a container of fru-fru bubble bath next to an empty wine cooler.
Shit.
The girlfriend.
I'd forgotten Marc had a fucking girlfriend.
Cursing under my breath, I grabbed the bubble bath and opened the door. "Cucumber Rose, Marc?"
He looked up from where he was perched on the bed, his cheeks reddening. "You looked in my bathtub?"
"It was on the outer edge. I didn't even have to snoop for it." Point for me on that one. Because if the man hadn't religiously kept his bedroom door locked, I would have snooped months before. It's important to know your roommates.
"Well." I could see him swallow from where I stood. "Now you know."
"That you have a girlfriend? A girlfriend who probably wouldn't appreciate you screwing around with your roommate." I didn't mention that I'd suspected it before. It was his responsibility to feel bad about this. I refused to share that guilt.
His head lurched back in surprise. "A girlfriend? What? No. I don't have a girlfriend."
Oh, god. He didn't have a girlfriend, because he-he was … Oh, that explained everything. Why last night didn't work, for one.
"That...that's mine."
"Yours?" I frowned. I was all mentally prepared for him to announce a boyfriend. It was … his? "What about the wine cooler?"
His lids closed briefly as he let out a sigh. "Guilty."
Huh. Wasn't the kind of guilt I'd thought this was leading to.
But now that the subject had come up, it made much more sense that Marc would be planning a bangcation in France if he didn't have a girlfriend. Also it proved I was into gender stereotypes – – I'd have to work on that for sure.
I looked at him then back at the bubble bath. Then back at him.
That's when the giggles started. "Marc Kirby likes cucumber rose bath bubbles."
"It smells good," he said defensively. "I like to smell good."
"What scent is your shampoo? Pear Breeze?" The giggling spiked up a notch.
"That's enough."
"Oh, wait," I gasped dramatically. "That's probably the flavor of your wine cooler."
"Would you cut it out." Marc's stern look was sexy as hell; I gotta admit. His students were going to go nuts over that.
Of course that was only fuel to keep going. "'100% organic,'" I read from the bottle. "This is some quality shit. I'm going to have to borrow this."
"Okay. Hand it over." He got up off the bed and headed toward me, his hand outstretched toward the bubble bath.
"I will when I'm – – " But then I saw something else that caught my interest.
Marc had put on boxer briefs while I was in the bathroom – – blue this time, not quite as alluring as the red, but still a nice fit. Just, right at that moment the fit was more pointed than I'd expected it to be. Oh. Snap.
"Hello," I said, giving over the bath wash without a fight. Because who cared about that when he was sporting that.
"That's. That just happens." He brought the bottle down in front of him to cover his goods. Like that was going to help. "I have no control over it."
My smile was smug. "Then it really was an issue of bourbon last night. That's nice to know."
"What? Wait – – did you think I didn't get it up? Because I definitely did. It was the bourbon's fault that I passed out."
"Ohhhh. I certainly read that situation wrong." This was a much better version of events.
It also boded well for the current situation.
My smile turned from smug to playful as I leaned back against one side of the doorframe and blinked innocently. "So this is morning wood?"
"Or." He set the bottle on the counter inside the bathroom and turned his focus to me. "The sexy naked woman in my bedroom."
My breath hitched.
Never mind that I was actually still kind of standing in his bathroom.
"You think I'm sexy?" My voice sounded higher than usual.
"Uh, yeah." He placed a hand on the frame over me. "Obviously."
I glanced down at his package and then back up. "Obviously." Whaaaat. I mean, I knew what I looked like right then. But who was I to argue? If Marc's vision was that poor, I would be happy to reap the benefits. And what was happening in his undies was certainly a benefit.
He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that sent goosebumps running down my arms and had my stomach twisting into knots.
"Marc … ?" I didn't really know what I wanted to say. He was intimidating like this, standing so close like he was. I could reach out and touch his chest without having to straighten my arm. I could see the pupils of his eyes darken as he glanced down at my lips, and I started thinking thoughts I shouldn't be thinking, let alone thinking about speaking.
"Yes, Madison?" He seemed to inch even closer.
"You know, maybe we should try a redo." The words came out in a rush, before I had time to fully consider what I was saying.
His mouth stretched up into a half smile. "You mean...you want to sober-sex?"
Hungover ideas are just as bad as drunk ones, it turns out. Maybe I was actually still drunk. Because suggesting sober-sex was a bad, bad idea.
Wasn't it?
But the words were out, and his lips were a breath away, and he hadn't sounded completely turned off at the suggestion. "Yeah. I mean."
"We're here," he suggested.
"Yes. And naked. For the most part."
"Good point."
Again I glanced at the tent between us. "There's that too. The point."
"Yes. That." Another of those chuckles that made my girl parts tingle. "And we did start this when we were drunk."