Page 35 of Traitor
Chapter Thirteen
Peyton
It’s a sad,sad day when you wake up in bed after a night of glorious sex and realize it was a terrible mistake. I slap a hand over my eyes to ward off the blinding sunlight, but not before I get a glimpse of the naked man in bed beside me.
The incredibly muscular, naked man in bed beside me.
Seriously, I didn’t know a guy could have so many muscles.
I brave the sunlight and lose a good ten minutes staring at the plump curve of his ass. Despite the headache pounding behind my eyes and the self-doubt roaring between my ears, I wonder if I shouldn’t rouse him for another round, just for posterity’s sake. Based on the soreness in my own body, and the satisfied throb between my legs, he was entirely worth the inevitable morning-after awkwardness.
As I’m debating if I should smother myself with the pillow or risk inching out from underneath his grasp, Ford lets out a groan and the arm that’s slung over my waist shifts off, freeing me. Carefully, so as not to wake him, I slip off the side and stumble to my feet. Clothes are scattered haphazardly over the floor. I can only find my flannel button up, so I slip my arms into it and begin to investigate the top floor in search of a bathroom. I seem to remember one at some point, but the memories are hazy. Triple X-rated, but hazy.
Once I’m in the hallway off the main space, I let out a sigh and say to myself, “What the hell did you get yourself into, Peyton?”
The open-concept living area where Ford and I had painted the night before leads down to a hallway with several closed doors, including the one I’d escaped, where Ford still snores softly. I peer into each closed door and find rooms in various states of disrepair until finally coming to a bathroom at the end of the hall. I test the water, the toilet, and give a small prayer of thanks that they’re still working like the kitchen sink the night before.
My reflection stares back at me accusingly in the mirror over the sink the second I flip the switch. I hadn’t meant to let anything like last night happen. I sink onto the toilet and bury my face in my hands. Too much wine. Too much wine and not enough self-control. I don’t know how to face him. Even thinking about it has me shaking. It could be the worn-out muscles in my thighs protesting as I flush and get back to my feet, but the twisting sensation in my belly isn’t a result of the alcoholic overindulgence.
After washing my hands, I peer down the hallway, but there’s not a peep coming from the bed. Must be quite the heavy sleeper. As I tiptoe past the doorway, I wonder how long I should let him snooze before I corner him for a very adult conversation. Not that I didn’t enjoy our late-night aerobics, but I have no plans on scheduling a repeat. We needed to let lose some steam, that was all.
I retrieve the rest of my clothes without waking him and decide to take a shower. Hopefully by then, Ford will be awake and as eager to put this night behind us as I am. He certainly doesn’t seem like the commitment type, and we both know I’m only staying in town long enough to figure out what happened to the woman on the lake, and then I’m gone.
In order to save time, I straighten up all of my supplies while Ford is still asleep and stuff them into grocery store bags I find under the kitchen sink. With my clothes in hand, I silently inch my way toward the bathroom for that shower. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear the telltale sound of the toilet flush a few feet away.
Damn, the guy is quiet. I didn’t even hear him get out of bed. He’s not a small guy. You’d think he’d give a girl a warning. A squeaky floorboard or something, but no. As I learned last night, he’s got magnificent control of his muscular frame.
Even though I’m no stranger to the one-night stand, my heart does a little shimmy and my stomach threatens to reject the remains of dinner still sloshing around inside it. After all, the sex wasreallygood. If I had time to have a personal life, he’d be at the top of the list for an around-the-clock lover. He sure has the stamina for it.
With that in mind, I lean against the wall until the bathroom door opens, and holy shit does he look better in full daylight. I’m into fitness, but this guy practically has abs on his abs, and damn if his shoulders don’t make me want to climb right on him and go for another ride.
“Mornin’,” Ford says, as he scratches his head. He stifles a yawn, then grins. Warmth stirs in my belly, and I forget the reasons why I should be pushing him toward the nearest exit. “Sorry, had a late night.”
My own responding smile feels decidedly feline, in spite of my earlier determination to get as far away from him as fast as possible. “Yes, you did.” I consider the way his unbuttoned jeans droop around his hips, decide to hell with it, and then I say, “Want a shower?”
Ford’s grin darkens, and a hand shoots out, quick as a snake, to capture my waist and jerk me against his hard body. My eyes zero in on the ink on his chest that I didn’t notice the night before. I have an urgent need to trace it with my tongue…along with other parts of his body. It seems one taste of him wasn’t enough.
One more, I decide. One more and then we’ll forget it all.
I crowd him, angling us both back to the bathroom, my shirt slipping off my shoulders as we go. His lips find the sensitive skin there, and I flick back the curtain and turn on the water as his hands palm my ass.
Screw reality, it can wait another hour…or two.
My body comesalive under his touch in a way that it hasn’t in far too long. I moan against his lips and clutch at the material of his shirt to pull him closer. His body crashes into mine and I fall back against my car. He cages me there, his arms cradling my spine as though to protect it from any discomfort. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t feel anything but the pleasure his touch inspires.
We made it out of the shower alive, barely, and he insisted he walk me to my car. The second we rounded the corner to the parking lot, he has me trapped.
“God,” he says against my lips, then continues whispering against my throat, “I can’t get enough of you. I thought I could, last night, but I was wrong. When I saw you this morning, all I could think about was touching you again, tasting you, taking you. You’re driving me crazy, Peyton.”
“We have to stop,” I whisper back into the ether. The words dissolve into the darkness, almost like I never said them. I’m not sure if I’m afraid they’re real or that I’ve only spoken them in my head.
“Don’t say that now,” he answers in a strangled voice. His heart thumps wildly under my palms and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, his touch lingering on my body. “If it weren’t for Lexie, I’d drag you back inside and not let you go until tomorrow morning.”
I strain against him, fears and doubts forgotten, and drag his mouth back to mine. “I have to go,” I say against his lips. “I’ve got to meet Alice figure out my new work schedule.”
He chuckles and his hand trails down to cup my butt and press me against his hardness. Heat spikes through me and I moan. How is this guy human? “You sure about that?” he asks.
“Maybe not.”
