After a good scrub, I practically tumble out of the shower and I’m sure I’m forgetting something. My teeth. I snag the toothbrush and paste and get to work. Minty fresh breath doesn’t annoy my stomach. I fumble my way into the bedroom and leave the towel on the floor as I crawl into bed. With as much trouble as I had taking off my clothes, I don’t intend to waste time trying to put pajamas on.
When I blink my eyes open at some point later, there are three things I notice. First, the dreaded headache pounds just under the surface of my skull. I know I’m dehydrated by all the alcohol and need to drink some water to help ward it off. Second, the bad taste in my mouth. So much for my earlier brushing. I flick my tongue out, hoping to get rid of my cotton mouth. Third, I’m extremely warm, like I’ve been wrapped in an electric blanket. I cast off all those considerations and hope sleep will claim me again. I’m not quite ready to wake and no light seeps through the blinds. It’s still dark out, so it’s too early to get up.
Fantasy land is the best part of sleeping. I so easily slip back into dreamland. I haven’t been touched in so long; I’ve conjured my leading man very craftily with the help of some steamy romance novels I’ve recently read. His hands, which I’ve always loved, sweep down my torso. I’m a bit mad he doesn’t pay homage to my breasts, but that thought flitters away as his fingertips stroke over my bundle of nerves with perfect pressure.
“Oh my god, it’s been so long,” I say languorously.
“Yes, it has.”
I almost jump out of my skin. My eyes fly open as I jackknife into a sitting position. There is a man in my bed!
“Drew, I mean Andy.” I shake off the cobwebs because who else could it be? Besides, I would recognize his voice anywhere.
“Cate?”
“Why are you in my bed?” I’m now fully aware I’m naked. Fantasy land has morphed into reality. Despite our history, he’s never been one to take liberties. I yank the sheet up to neck level.
“Actually, you’re in my bed.” His proclamation rocks my world.
“What?” I continue to clutch the sheet as I scoot back to lean on the headboard. That’s when I notice the room for the first time. The dark furniture isn’t positioned the way my more modern pieces are. In fact, the door isn’t even on the side of the room it should be. So this can’t be my bedroom.
He matches my position against the headboard, only he doesn’t cover himself. His bare chest is there for me to peruse with my eyes and my hands if I were bold enough to do so. His muscled frame is defined ridges and hill tops that beg for attention. God, he is beautiful. I feel the moisture between my legs, which precedes the heat in my cheeks.
He takes my free hand in his and gives me a gentle smile.
“Cate, sweetheart, you passed out in my car. I had no idea where you lived. I checked your purse but you still have a South Carolina driver’s license. You should get that changed, by the way.”
He kisses my hand as if to put me at ease. His eyes land where I have a white knuckled grip on the sheet and he chuckles softly.
I feel stupid because he’s seen the goods, yet I can’t seem to let go of the sheet. Instead, I fill the silence with a hasty explanation. “I don’t own a car. So I keep forgetting to change my license.”
He nods and squeezes my hand. “I tried to wake you but you didn’t stir. I had no choice but to bring you home, not that I’m sorry about it.”
His eyes trail down my body like a caress.
“Where is home?” One glance through the partially open blinds and I know I’m not in downtown DC.
“Baltimore.”
“Baltimore?”
He nods again. I could question him more about that but I have other pressing questions that need answers.
“Why am I in your bed?”
The Drew I knew was a gentleman. If he wants us to start from scratch, he wouldn’t presume I’d sleep with him.
“I don’t know. I put you in my spare bedroom, fully dressed I might add. I woke up to the sound of you calling my name begging me to touch you.”
His eyes sweep down to my sheet-covered body and back up again. Even though I’m not exposed, I’m mortified by his revelation. Stumbling through his apartment and not finding my way in the middle of the night comes back to me. I’d been in search of the bathroom, and eventually crawled into his bed naked. He’d slept through the whole ordeal until I vocalized my fantasies. I slide down and lift the covers to hide myself completely, and then I see I’m not the only one naked.
I snatch the covers back off of my head. Then have the presence of mind to cover my breasts again. “You’re naked,” I accuse.
“Yeah, I kind of sleep that way. But you should know that.”