Rolling over with a sigh, I snuggle my body closer to the warmth in my bed. I slide my hand across smooth skin and briefly wonder if Kennedy shaved Snowball when I wasn’t looking. Slowly opening my eyes, I glance across the pillow and see Dallas smiling at me.
“HOLY SHIT!”
Scrambling away from him, I move to the edge of the bed and sit up, the action causing my brain to feel like it’s going to explode. Squinting my eyes to try and make the pain go away, I stare at his body, naked from the waist up. Looking down at myself quickly, I see that I have a T-shirt on.
“Where’s my dress?”
Dallas raises his arm and points to the corner of the room. My dress is draped over the back of the chair and my shoes are on the floor next to it.
Oh, my God. Did we have sex? Why can’t I remember? And why does it feel like someone kicked me in the head?
I reach my hand up and rest it on my forehead.
“There’s aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand next to you,” he says casually as he pushes himself up to lean against the headboard.
I hear his words, but I can’t process them. All I can do is stare at his naked chest and all of the ink on his arms. Unfortunately, my head is screaming at me to do something. I turn my gaze away from Dallas, and down the pills and the entire glass of water.
Setting the glass back down, I find him staring at me. I’m sure I look super this morning. I drank so much I didn’t take my hair down or wash off my makeup. I probably look like a circus clown.
“Did I . . . I mean, did we . . .” I trail off, pointing between the two of us.
He laughs and shakes his head at me. “No. No, we did not. I’m going to make us some breakfast. I think I have an extra toothbrush and stuff in the bathroom if you want to shower.”
He slides out of bed and I stare at his back while he pulls a pair of jeans on over his black boxer briefs. Thank God we didn’t have sex last night. That’s something I would like to remember.
“Did you change my clothes for me?”
If he saw me naked while I was completely obliterated, I will be mortified.
“Don’t worry; I didn’t look. I pulled one of my T-shirts on over your dress and you did the rest yourself. I was going to let you sleep in here and crash on the couch, but with the amount of liquor you threw up in my toilet, I figured I’d better sleep next to you and make sure you didn’t die,” he tells me with a laugh as he walks from the room.
Scratch that. I would have preferred his seeing me naked rather than everything else he had to witness. I don’t know whether to feel grateful that he took such good care of me and didn’t take advantage or a little miffed. It would have been nice to know he at least wanted to look. Liquid courage failed me in more ways than one.
Dragging myself out of bed, I head to Dallas’s bathroom and take the hottest shower I can, scrubbing off last night’s makeup and drunken humiliation. When I get out, I see that Dallas left another one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for me to wear. I glance over at my dress in the corner and wonder if I should just slip that back on and leave so I don’t have to face him again.
The smell of bacon and eggs permeates the room and my stomach growls. It would be rude to just leave now when he’s making me breakfast. And I guess I should be happy he didn’t take advantage of me in my inebriated state last night.
Quickly slipping on the shirt and boxers before I change my mind, I run my fingers through my damp hair and make my way out into the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, watching the way the muscles in Dallas’s back move as he works around the kitchen, stirring food and pulling plates out of the cabinet.
It takes everything in me not to walk up behind him and run my hands up his naked back to feel those muscles under my fingers.
I clear my throat so I don’t startle him. He turns around with a spatula in his hand and pauses as he looks at me. I nervously pull at the hem of his shirt. It’s huge on me, but I’m still conscious of the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. I didn’t need one with the dress I wore to the wedding.
“You look good in my clothes,” he says softly as he sets the spatula down on the counter and walks over to me.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have come over here like that. I never drink, especially not that much.”
Dallas reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair.
“What do you want, Lorelei?” he asks softly.
I swallow and stare up at him. He’s looking at me imploringly, like he wants me to say something that will change everything. To admit what I’m feeling in the bright light of day without the haze of alcohol clouding my brain and my heart. I suddenly want more than anything to just let go; throw caution to the wind and not worry about the consequences. With a deep breath, I take the plunge.
“You. I just want you.”