Was she really that blind?
She shivered and nodded, and I stepped towards her and took her by the shoulders. But she wouldn’t look at me. I turned her chin to me and she looked up at me with those large soft eyes. Her lashes were long and thick with droplets and her skin sparkled with diamonds of water. She shivered again and her chin quivered.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you, Harlow,” I said quietly.
She blinked and water trickled down her cheeks. “You want me?”
I nodded and ran the pad of my fingertips down her cheek. “More than you could ever know. But you are drunk. It’s not meant to happen this way.”
She closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. “I wish I wasn’t.”
“Me too.”
She smiled up at me and pulled me closer by the belt loop of my wet jeans. “When I wake up tomorrow … I hope I remember this moment.”
“I doubt you will.”
“You’re probably right.” She reached around and held me, placing her wet cheek against my chest. “I think I’m in love with you Heath.”
“I think I might be in love with you too H-bomb.”
She pulled back and smiled up at me. But her smile suddenly faded and she abruptly pulled away, quickly disappearing behind a shrub to throw up.
I had to laugh at the irony. It was the first time I’d ever told anyone I might be in love with them.
And it had made her violently ill.
* * * * *
HARLOW
I had died and I was in hell.
Either that or I had been in some kind of terrible accident and was lying injured somewhere. Various scenarios skipped across my injured brain before I bit the bullet and braved opening my eyes.
Bright light flooded my vision and I quickly squeezed them shut again. Where the hell was I? And who had loosed the stampede of jackhammers on my brain?
I rolled over in search of a place where my brain would stop hurting and I found a cool spot. Settling into it, I waited for sleep to take me away on its soothing tides again. I felt warm. Relaxed. Content amongst the sheets. Feeling the softness of the fabric against my skin and the warm body beside me.
What the…?
My eyes flew open.
Holy hell!
I. Was. In. Heath’s. Bed.
With Heath.
Wearing nothing but an unfamiliar pair of boxer shorts and singlet.
Almost too afraid to move I peered under the sheet.
Oh thank God! Heath had his boxers on.
I snapped the sheet back down and turned my neck to see Heath smiling at me.
“See anything you like?” He grinned.
“Oh God,” I moaned, pulling the pillow over my face.
Desperately, I tried to recall the events of the previous night. Namely, how the hell had I ended up in Heath’s bed and did they include me having sex with my stupid ex-best friend? I rolled my memory back as far as it would go, but last night was nothing but a blur.
Heath just wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into the warm contour of his body. It felt so good I didn’t even struggle.
Too good.
“Anyone ever tell you how much you wriggle in your sleep?” he murmured into the back of my neck. Magical sensations shot along my skin at the warmth of his breath on my neck and the closeness of his firm body pressed up against mine. His arm held me close, his gentle fingers sweeping across my belly as his hand dropped to the sheet.
My headache dissipated as a thousand pleasures tore threw me. Every nerve in my body tingled.
“Heath?”
He shifted next to me, the warmth of his body engulfing me.
“Mmmm?” he murmured into my hair.
“Where are my clothes?”
“You don’t remember?”
My mind reached back as far as it could go. Nope. Nothing.
“Why am I not wearing them?”
His lips curled into a smile against my neck. “Think about it … it’ll come back to you.”
“Oh God … I … we … didn’t…?”
I felt him rise up onto an elbow and when I turned to look at him, he was smiling.
“Relax H-bomb, your virtue is still intact.”
I felt dumb for having to ask. And dumber for actually asking. But it wasn’t every day I woke up hung over and semi-naked in bed with a guy every woman wanted between her thighs.
“Believe me baby—” He fluffed his pillow and lay back down again. “If we’d gone there together, you wouldn’t need me to remind you.”
His arrogant charm pushed through my hangover and I laughed until my throbbing brain shut me up and I pressed my hands over my eyes.
He pulled me back into him, his bare chest and stomach warm against my back, as his arms secured around my waist. He sighed and I melted against him, my entire body relaxed and content.
Slept crept up on me and when I opened my eyes four hours had passed and I was alone. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. It was ridiculous that I could feel so content lying amongst the tangled sheets of the biggest player in town. Yet I was.
I covered my face with my hands. I shouldn’t feel so relaxed here.
When the door crept open I sat up. Heath came in carrying a glass of water.
“How are you feeling?” he asked handing me the water.
“I’m fine.” I raised the glass in a toast. “Thanks.”
He bounced onto the bed, lay on his side and flopped his arms over my legs.
“So what do you want to do today?”
“Do?” I shrugged. “I should probably go home. “
I ran my hands through my hair, shaking it loose over my shoulders.
“Stay here. We can hang out. Chill on the couch and watch a couple of movies.” He looked up at me, his eyes soft as he grinned. It was no wonder women fell over themselves for his attention. How could I turn down that face?
“Will there be popcorn and ice-cream?”
His smile widened. “Baby, I’m talking about the full cinema experience.”
“Then how can I refuse?” I said, laughing at his enthusiasm.
“I’m hoping you can’t.”
Then I remembered I had work the next day. “I have work in the morning.”
“I can get you there. I’ll take you on the bike.”
“I’ll need a change of clothes.”
He sat up. “We’ll go now and then grab some lunch.”
I cocked my head to the side as I looked at him. “Why do you want me to stay so much?”
He shrugged. “I’m not use to a girl cuddling me in my bed. I guess I kinda liked it.”
“That’s ’cos after you have sex with them, you’re showing them the door before they even have a chance to put their panties back on.”
His eyebrows pressed together into a frown and I thought it was because I’d just reminded him of what a player he was. But he must have been thinking about the past week because he said, “I’m sorry about how I acted. How I avoided you.”
“So you admit it. You were avoiding me.”
“I don’t know what I was doing. I just thought it’d be easier …” He trailed off and frowned again. His eyes dropped to his big hands where he was absentmindedly playing with his thumbnail. “Whatever it was, it was dumb. And I’m sorry.”
I knew we should discuss the night I picked him up from the hospital. Namely, about the kiss in his lounge room and how I’d practically begged him to take it further. But last night—what I didn’t know about last night—was seriously playing havoc with my head. It had left my head murky and I couldn’t remember a thing.
Despite my current state of hangover hell, I still had the sense to see that a serious conversation about our relationship was best left until I could think straight. But it wasn’t just that. Because if I were honest, the simple truth was: I had no idea what I wanted anymore. And I needed time to think.
Heath Dillinger was breaking my steely resolve.
And it terrified me.