Page 66 of Man Cuffed
Oh right. I wasn’t.
And now isn’t the time to ponder it either. Because I seem to be alone, which means I have an opportunity to get the fuck out of here. Even though my clothes are scattered around Meg’s apartment, I still manage to dress faster than a fireman who has to go out on a call. I can’t seem to spot my boxer briefs so I guess I’m going commando. I yank on my shirt, grab my belt, and am ready to hightail it out of the apartment. I hope Meg is at work, sparing me the awkward morning-after conversation.
But no luck. Just as I’m ready to lunge for the door, Meg steps back into the apartment from the deck, a watering can in her hands. “Morning,” she says as I clutch my shoes like they’re a life preserver. “Looks like you’re at a level ten freak-out. That was fast. I thought you’d maybe just hover at a level eight.”
I stand a little taller. Mentally cooling it all down. “Nah,” I lie. “I’m totally a two.”
She blinks. Then she takes a step closer, squints, and really examines me. It doesn’t matter that I’m already wearing clothes, because I feel as though I’m standing here naked. I can’t seem to lie to this woman. It’s more than that. I can’t seem to keep quiet around this woman. And keeping quiet is kind of my MO. “Fine,” I say, dropping the shoes and shrugging. “I’m at a level eleven freak-out.”
And what does she do? She fucking laughs! “Copper, you need to chill out. Did you have fun last night?”
“Well, duh.”
She takes a step closer. “Did you like letting go for once?”
I try to nod, but mostly I just gulp. Memories of last night flood my poor little brain. Meg’s hands in my hair as I kneel in the kitchen. The weight of Meg in my arms as I carry her to the bedroom. The feel of her underneath me as I thrust into her...
“Don’t you want to do it again?”
Unfortunately, I don’t have any words right now. All my words have flown out the window, leaving more space for my dick. My dick is now at an eleven too.
“Look,” she says. “You can freak-out if you need to. I’ll let you carry your shoes out that door. It’s your call. But the genie isn’t going back into the bottle, Mac. I know your libido has a souped-up engine. I’m familiar with your best work...” She crosses her smooth arms.
“...Basically, I see two choices. You can go home and we can be awkward and embarrassed and avoid each other. You can pretend not to notice me when I’m out on the deck. You can pretend not to spot my lacy underwear when we run into each other in the laundry room.”
My throat goes dry just remembering the sight of her in lingerie.
“Or...” She pauses here and suddenly I notice she’s wearing a flowered robe that hugs all her curves. I’m pretty sure she’s naked under there. “Or,” she repeats, “we can just skip to the part where you admit what you want.”
Yup, this woman has my number. She has me all figured out. And now I feel like an ass, because she’s a hundred percent right. “Look, Meg, I’m sorry.” Immediately her face shutters, because of my poor choice of words. “No. I’m sorry I had a freak-out when there was no reason for one.”
“Last night I asked you what Hemingway would do.” She hugs herself a little. “That man broke a lot of hearts. So it’s not like I expected a marriage proposal over coffee.”
A sharp bark of laughter escapes me. “You’re too smart for your own good. Did you know that?”
She rolls her deep brown eyes.
“Confession time. Is it terrible that I’m wondering if you’re naked under that robe?”
“Hmm.” Her arms remain locked around her midriff. “Is it terrible that I’m hoping you’ll find out? But you’d have to put your shoes and your belt down first.”
I glance down and see myself as Meg sees me. A fucking coward, with his shoes in his hands. I set everything down on the floor and then turn to her again. “Am I crazy, or did you say something about coffee?”
“Sure I did. I was about to make some.”
“Can I trouble you for a mug? I somehow forgot to have that fruity drink with you last night.”
She snorts. “You were passed out like a baby in my bed, Copper. I’ll bet Hemingway could go all night.”
“Is that achallenge, Trouble? Did you just question my manhood?”
She shrugs. “Take it however you will.”
“Yeah, okay.” I take a step forward and gently ease the fabric of her robe over her shoulder. She drops her arms, revealing only bare skin underneath the robe. I can’t help myself. I have to drop my lips to the sleek curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. When my mouth meets the warmth of her skin, I groan into the kiss.
I hear a low chuckle as her hands skim down my biceps.
“I just got played, didn’t I?” I ask her shoulder. And then her breast. Because I forgot how to stop touching her sometime last night. And it’s not clear that I’ll ever remember.
