Page 42 of Forbidden Desires

“Go to sleep,” I tell her again firmly, making it clear that nothing else is happening tonight, no matter how much I know she wants it. No matter how impossible it is for me to keep myself in check. My cock is harder than a hickory nut. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted any woman, but not like this. I’ve already crossed too many fucking lines tonight. I won’t cross another.

Chapter 20

Gisele

Igroan, not ready to open my tired eyes. Pain throbs through my head like a jackhammer on a sidewalk. How much did I drink last night? In my mind I play back the night, trying toremember exactly what I got up to. I can picture Mason, Paisley, and Jake, us all laughing and drinking. From my memory, I had at least four of those cocktails. I can recall dancing with Mason, then it’s all hazy.

I grab my pillow and cover my head. Why did I do this to myself? I see a flash of a memory of Brody standing with his arms crossed, and I bolt straight up in bed, the pillow going flying. I glance around my surroundings, and the room spins. Where the hell am I? This isn’t my room. The sheets next to me are all messed up like someone slept there beside me, and I’m in an oversized T-shirt that definitely belongs to someone a lot larger than me.

I break into a cold sweat. Oh, dear God, please tell me I didn’t go home with Mason. I wasn’t even into him. A wave of nausea washes over me. What the hell came over me last night? I run a hand through my bird’s nest of hair, searching the room for my discarded clothes and spotting them on the hardwood floor. This room is nice; it has that whole country charm thing going on, with a view out the window of rolling hills. I remember Mason saying something about living on a ranch out of town, and my panic kicks up a beat.

“Sleeping Beauty finally decided to grace me with her presence,” comes a deep voice that’s not Mason. My heart settles a little as Brody enters the room carrying a glass of orange juice and a box of Advil. I’m still not sure what happened, but at least I know I didn’t make a colossal mistake in going home with the wrong man.

I place a hand over my chest. “Thank God,” I whisper to myself.

“Thank God?” he questions.

“For a second…” I stop mid-sentence, not wanting to go on.

His jaw tightens. “For a second you thought you went home with Mason?” I feel the heat of his intense eyes boring through me, and my head throbs harder.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the pain. “Yes. I mean, no. I…” My head hammers, and I can’t think straight. Why am I in Brody’s bed? And why does he look so well put together at this hour on a Sunday morning? It’s just not fair.

He sits on the bed beside me and passes the juice over. “Thought you might need these,” he grumbles, and I know he’s not impressed.

“Thank you.” He pops two of the tablets in my hand, and I suck them back with a swig of juice. Please Lord let them work. I wince, my head spinning after throwing my head back. Oh, this is the hangover from hell. I’m going to kill Paisley for talking me into the date. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

“That bad, hey. Well, it’s what you get for tossing back drinks all night,” he says, his words thick with irritation.

“There it is. I knew this kindness was too good to be true.” I swing my legs off the bed, knowing I need to get out of here before I cop a proper lecture from him. “Bathroom?” I ask.

He motions toward a dark wood door, and I make quick work of crossing the room, knowing I’m in nothing but his oversized shirt and my panties. I use the facility, then wash my hands, staring at my reflection. I look like the dog’s breakfast. My hair is a bird’s nest, my mascara is smudged around my eyes. I pop my head out the door. “Is it okay if I take a shower before I take off?” I ask, not wanting to push him but knowing I can’t go home like this.

“Be my guest. There’s a spare towel in the ensuite already.”

I shut the door with a click, trying to steady myself, then turn the water to steaming hot. Removing the shirt and my underwear, I step under the water, letting it bring me back tolife. On the tile shelf I find a bottle of shampoo and smell it—green apples. It smells like him, and something about that is so comforting to me in my fragile state.

I squirt some of it into my hand, and as I massage it though my scalp, a memory flashes through my head. Us sitting on his bed with me running my fingers through his soft hair. A sick feeling washes over me. Oh no. I kissed him. I see his handsome face right before I planted one on him. He didn’t push me away. He wanted it just as much as I did, but I know I shouldn’t have done it just the same.

I quickly wash my hair and body then shut off the water and grab a plush towel off the shelf. Wrapping it around my body, I run my fingers through the tangled wet mess, trying to comb it out, but it’s no use without my brush, so I throw it up in a messy bun with the hair elastic off my wrist. I look down at the pile of discarded clothing. I have no choice but to reuse my bra and underwear, but I wonder where my dress is.

I pop open the bathroom door. There is no sign of Brody, and I spot my dress in a pile of sequins on the floor. Hugging the towel tighter to my body, I make a run for it, grabbing up my dress and closing the bathroom door. I dress and throw the T-shirt back on over top, tying it in a knot at the front so I don’t have to return home in full sequins. Nothing screams walk of shame like a sparkly dress in the middle of the day. Not a good look.

When I’m ready, I wander out into the kitchen smelling something delicious, to find Brody with a spatula in his hand, standing behind the saucepan that has the scrumptious aroma wafting off it. My stomach rumbles. “You cook?” I ask, surprised. Something about him always made me believe he would be the order-in type.

“Don’t sound so shocked, my mother taught me. There are a lot of things I can do you don’t know about.”

“Clearly.” I take a seat at the rustic kitchen table. Glancing around the homely looking place, a nice wood fire takes pride of place amongst tan leather sofas. The kitchen is older-looking but is neat and tidy and well kept. My eyes land back on him, wondering where we go from here. I know I crossed a line last night, and part of me wonders if I’m about to lose my job. I intended to take off, but something has me wanting to stay a little bit. I tell myself it’s the offer of a cooked breakfast, but really, I know it’s so much more than that. This is the first time I have had him alone and away from work. No chance of anyone disrupting us mid conversation, no need to look over our shoulders.

He flips a pancake and places it on a plate with a stack of others, then scoops up some maple syrup. Carrying them over to the table, he places them in front of me. “Hope you like pancakes with syrup.”

“I would be a freak if I didn’t.” I offer a half laugh, trying to ease the tension between us. With my fork, I collect two perfectly round pancakes and deposit them on my plate then slather them in syrup and a sprinkling of fresh-cut strawberries. I don’t wait to dig in. I’m starving, and this looks amazing.

We eat in silence, but the air between us is heaving with so many unsaid words. I want to apologize for my behavior. I can feel how annoyed he is with me, and I don’t like it. But really, this is all his fault. If he hadn’t ghosted me all week then I wouldn’t have gone on that date to get back at him and I wouldn’t have felt the need to drink so much.

“Not working today?” I ask, deciding to start with something neutral.

“I’ve been up since five, sweet pea. The hotel’s not going to run itself, but I decided to work from home today. Victor’s in, and he can call me if I’m needed.”

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