“All right, let’s go,” I said and walked her into my bedroom.
After I got her situated in my bed, I stood and froze when she grabbed my hand.
“Connor? I’m sorry for coming over like this,” she said huskily and pulled me back so I was sitting next to her. “I wanted to come talk to you . . . just, not like this.”
Whatever she was about to say, I didn’t know if I wanted her to say it when she was drunk. Because all I could think about right now was how much she’d consumed my mind in the last couple days, and how perfect she looked in my bed. “We’ll talk in the morning, Maci. I need to talk to you too.”
Her heavy-lidded eyes fluttered back open and her brow scrunched. “You do?”
I smirked at her and pushed back some of her wet hair. “Didn’t you get my message from this morning? I don’t know what I did to piss you off, but we need to talk about it.”
Her confused face softened into something that instantly made me want to hold her. “Oh, right. The girl in your apartment this morning, I’d been able to forget about her until you brought up this morning again. Thanks for that, hope she was worth it.” Maci rolled away from me and grabbed at the comforter. “Good night, Connor.”
“Whoa, what? Maci . . . worth it? What are you talking about? My sister was here with my nephew this morning when I got your text. She’d been here for a couple hours.”
She stopped stroking one of the pillows, reminding me that she was still completely trashed, and turned back to me. “Amy was here? It wasn’t just some girl . . . ?”
“No,” I drew out the word. “Why?”
“I—I thought that . . . that maybe after what you did last night that you had . . . that there was . . .”
I draped my arm over her, caging her to the bed, and leaned closer. “After what I did last night? Maci, what are you talking about?”
“You . . . you stood up for me. You cared about me,” she whispered and turned her head to the side to look away from me. “For once.”
Using my fingers to turn her face back to mine, I shook my head slowly and tried to find the words for a few moments before finally whispering, “What do you mean for once?” My breathing deepened as I waited for her to respond, but her eyes just bounced back and forth between mine. “Maci, what do you mean for—”
She sat up and crushed her mouth to mine, and for the life of me, I don’t know why I didn’t push her right back down onto the bed. The fingers that had been pressed to her cheek slid through her wet hair, holding her face to mine as I deepened the kiss, eliciting a moan from her that shot straight through my body. Her hands slid down my bare chest, to my stomach, causing the muscles to contract; and, Jesus Christ, I wanted her to continue. But the second she whispered my name, and the alcohol barely masked by the Gatorade registered in my mind, I remembered why she was even here in the first place, and what I was doing.
I grabbed at her hands and pinned them to the bed as I sat up. “No, Maci. Shit . . . no, this can’t happen. Not like this, not when you’re drunk.” Not at all . . . her brothers would kill me.
“I’m not dru—”
“Yes, you are. Maci, you’re trashed; you were falling in love with my pillows not even half an hour ago. This can’t happen . . .” Leave it at that. Leave it at that. “. . . like this. Let’s talk in the morning, okay?”
She looked hurt, but I didn’t even know if she’d remember this in the morning, or if she’d hate herself for doing it.
“Just go to sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow, I swear. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
It took everything in me to force myself away from that girl, but I stood and walked to the door, turning just in time to see her start stroking the pillows again. Yeah, she isn’t going to remember any of this. “Good night, Maci Price,” I whispered as I shut the door.
I walked around my apartment shutting off lights, bringing my gun to the end table, picking up her purse and the lamp—that, thank God, hadn’t broken—and locking the door before settling on the couch and shutting my eyes. But sleep didn’t come easy after that. All I could see was the way she looked as she’d come out of the bathroom, and in my bed, and my body was still very vividly remembering every second of that kiss.
It was going to be a long night.
Maci
MY EYES OPENED slowly, and I looked around confused at the strange room that still somehow reminded me of my own. I let go of the pillow I was holding to my body, sat up, and grabbed at my head when I felt like I was going to fall back over; but after a few seconds, the feeling passed. It was then I noticed the clothes I was wearing that definitely weren’t mine, and smelled . . . oh, holy mother of God . . . smelled just like Connor fucking Green. I looked wildly around the room for any sign of him, and stood up, only to sit back down on the bed when I felt like I was going to faint.
Shit, how much had I had to drink last night? And what on earth did I do to end up in Connor’s clothes and bed?
I stood, slower this time, and cracked open the door to tiptoe down the hall. I almost thanked God out loud when I found Connor passed out on the couch. Going quickly back to the hallway, I paused outside his bathroom and looked in at the pile of my clothes on the floor. Oh, God, they smell like alcohol and smoke. No wonder I was wearing his clothes.
Trying to remain quiet, I went back around his apartment until I found my purse near the couch, and stuffed all my clothes in there before looking for paper, a pen, and tape. Once my note was attached to his door, I slipped out of his apartment and quickly made my way over to my own.
After searching for my phone, I pulled up Amber’s name and shot off a text before changing into some of my own clothes and pulling up my messy hair. It was obvious I’d taken a shower and slept on wet hair, I just hoped like hell he hadn’t had to help me, or that I’d thrown up in his apartment. My phone dinged and I picked it back up.
Amber: Dude. So. Hung-over.
I’m not as bad as I should be, but I still need a greasy breakfast. I don’t know how I got back last night, when I checked out the window, my car wasn’t in the lot.
Amber: I’ll come get you. Greasy breakfast so needed. Then we’ll go look for your car. Give me . . . like . . . a million hours to come get you
I woke up in Connor’s apartment. In his bed. In his clothes.
Amber: SUPER HOT NEIGHBOR?! Holy shit I’ll be there in ten!
I smiled to myself. I knew that would hurry her up. Too bad the only thing I had to tell her was that I’d dreamed I kissed him and woken up snuggling a pillow. Definitely not the most exciting experience of my life, and when it came to Connor Green, my dreams usually left me more satisfied than I felt right now.
Right now I was just confused and praying that I hadn’t made an ass out of myself last night.
Connor
I GRUNTED AS I sat up on the couch, and ran my hands through my hair before standing up. Trying to stay quiet, I walked back to my bedroom and cocked my head to the side when I noticed the door was open. I stepped in and walked quickly back out. The bed was empty. Looking in the bathroom, I cursed when I saw her clothes were gone, and jogged over to the couch to look for her purse. But on my way there, I saw something attached to my door, and knew that I wouldn’t find her purse where I had left it last night. Stepping up to the note hanging there, I clenched my fists as I read her words.
Hey . . . so I don’t know how I ended up in your apartment last night, but I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t make an ass out of myself, and if I puked anywhere, uh . . . can we just pretend like that didn’t happen?