Page 8 of About that Fling
She licked her lips and tried again, conscious of his liquid gaze, of the pleasant warmth in the thin layer of bedding that separated them.
“I don’t normally hook up with strange men I meet in bars, I mean,” she said. “I had a couple wild months in college, and two or three flings in my twenties, but since I turned thirty, I’ve been so focused on my career that I’ve only had time for the occasional monogamous relationship—well, and one broken engagement—but that was two years ago and I’ve really only ever had one other one-night stand in my whole life, so really, this is foreign territory for me and I’m a little uncomfortable.”
He nodded, taking in her blur of words. Or her disheveled hair and makeup. Really, she should have planned better, should have run to the bathroom first and splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth with a fingertip. God, she was so out of practice.
“Hello.”
His voice sounded low and husky, and Jenna remembered all over again why she’d tumbled into bed with a strange man.
Was it wrong that she kinda wanted to do it again?
“Hi,” she replied, feeling absurdly shy. “Hello. Hi there. Howdy.”
He smiled again, and her stupid heart did a somersault in her chest. She wanted to feel embarrassed, but instead she just wanted—well, him. Again. At least two or three more times.
He sat up in bed, the sheet falling away from his chest to reveal the sculpted muscle and fine dusting of hair she’d had such fun exploring the night before. She remembered how it felt pressed against her breasts and wondered if there was any chance she’d get to enjoy that again.
Adam closed his eyes and yawned, stretching in a way that reminded her of what it felt like to have those muscular arms anchored on either side of her body, pinning her down on a hotel bed as she gasped and writhed beneath him.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “You’re staring.”
“Sorry.”
He smiled. “Don’t be. About anything.”
“Right.” She swallowed. “Um, the thing is?—”
He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close and silencing whatever excuse she’d been ready to make. She thought he was going to kiss her and her whole body arched with approval—to hell with morning breath—but he stopped short and smiled into her eyes instead.
“How about we skip this part?” he asked.
“Which part is that?” She squirmed against him, then stopped as her hip bumped something hard beneath the covers.
“Not that part, though you did spend most of the night becoming intimately familiar with it. I’m also well-acquainted now with your parts, which means we’re now downright friendly.”
She flushed. “Yes, well?—”
“So how about we skip the routine where we pretend we had too much to drink and regret it and wouldn’t do again. Because I didn’t and I don’t and I would. Repeatedly.”
She blinked, a little surprised by his words, or maybe it was his body. His hand slid over her hip and she shivered in spite of the warmth. She couldn’t find any words, so she nodded. “Are you suggesting we consider this more than just a one-night stand?”
“I’m game if you are,” he said. “I enjoyed your company, even before we took our clothes off, and I think you felt the same.”
“I did. I do.”
He reached up and brushed her hair off her face, his hand large and gentle. “Look, I’m not suggesting we start addressing our wedding invitations over brunch, but I’d like to see you again.”
Jenna gasped.
“Brunch!” She threw back the covers, shooting out of bed so fast she sent him sprawling across the mattress. She scrambled around the floor, snatching clothes and shoes from piles that looked like the remnants of a yard sale.
“Wow,” he said, his eyes following her around the room. “I’ve never seen a woman so enthusiastic about mimosas and eggs Benedict.”
Jenna yanked on her panties and searched for her bra, wondering if she should shower before doing the walk of shame back home. “No, it’s brunch. I’m meeting my best friend and my aunt to look at wedding photos and baby clothes.”
His brow furrowed as Jenna grabbed one of her shoes off a high-backed chair. “Which one of you is getting married and having a baby?”
“Not me, I promise. Have you seen my bra?”
