Page 61 of Intoxicated
Chapter 20
CHER
Juuuust like that, I wake up God knows when.
I jerk up with a start. It’s dark outside, and this close to summer, I’m inclined to believe it’s past ten. Sure enough, after I’m done rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I look at the clock and realize it’s a little after midnight. The blanket falls off my body as it adjusts to waking up after a cramped nap. I’m still feeling pretty loosey-goosey from the pot – okay, and probably the alcohol, too – but there’s no denying that I would like to have a little more sleep.
Fuck if I’m gonna spend the whole night on Drew’s couch, though. Let alone in my day clothes. Not when I brought perfectly fine pajamas. At the very least, I’ll sneak into his room, where he’s probably passed out, and change into more comfortable clothing before recommencing an early night.
“Hello, hello.”
I didn’t knock. Why would I, when there was hardly any light coming in from beneath the door and I can only assume Drew is asleep? I felt lucky enough that the door was unlocked. Yet did I think for two seconds he would be awake, sprawled across his bed in nothing but those delicious sweatpants he loves to sleep in?
His eyes are no longer bloodshot. There is still sweat gleaming on his skin, but I assume it’s from his lack of a shower than him still being high or drunk. It’s been a few hours. If he’s anything like the other men around his build and age, he’s sobered up a bit.
Maybe he’s like me, though. Still feeling a little loose. In both body and morals.
“Hi.” My hand lingers on the doorknob. Was I opening the door? Closing it? I have no clue anymore. I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by a man perusing a magazine before bed. “Sorry. Came in here to grab my pajamas. I’m, uh…” Why am I so flustered? You’d think I had never seen him half naked before. Or had my face in a Drew-Thigh Sandwich. Because I have to slap my cheek to make it stop wanting to press into his warm, sweaty skin.
I bet he smells like man-musk. You know the shit I’m talking about.You know.
“Have you had a moment to consider my offer?” He chuckles, one hand popping up to cover his upper lip. “Jesus, what was I thinking? Matchmaking services… this is why I shouldn’t mix pot and alcohol.”
My overnight bag is on the other side of the room. I hurry to it, my tangled hair getting in my face as I dig through the contents. I have a clean nightshirt here somewhere. I’m fine with sleeping without pants on. Even if it means this guy will probably be feeling me up all night.
Gulp.
Why am I aroused? My stupid nipples are poking through my clothing, for fuck’s sake. Heat builds between my thighs as I wrestle with my clean clothing. I’ve already kicked off my shoes, but if I were still wearing them, this would end with me digging my heels into his carpet. I’m already biting my lip and trying to stop thinking about that head I gave him yesterday. Or was it two days ago? Since it’s dark and I’ve had a few hours of sleep, it feels like a new day already. Like the sun is about to come up and we’re off to get pancakes at the local diner.
God, I want pancakes.
I wantfood.I want something in my mouth. I think an oral fixation is flaring up. Assuming Drew can also get something up…
Hm. What do I want more? Pancakes, or cock? Do I have to get them in a particular order? Maybe I should let the man make the decision for me. Just a cool glance over my shoulder, and…
Aaaaand he’s looking right back at me, his goofy grin from before now replaced with a knowing smirk.
“Problems, Princess?”
“No.” I clear my throat. “Thinking about pancakes.”
His smirk does not falter. “Pancakes?”
“You know. Flapjacks. Crepes. Maple syrup and some marionberries…”
Drew’s chuckle does things to my stomach. Crazy things.Infuriating things.“You are such an Oregonian he says.” The magazine closes. “Marionberries.”
