Page 44 of Once Upon A Player
“No. I was, um, already up.” Self-consciously I tug my fingers through my tangled hair, which forces another memory to the surface. Of Lucas helping to unravel my flower chain just before he put me to bed. Which should have been sexy, but I have the terrible feeling he only did it because the chain caught on his signet ring.
“Listen, make yourself at home. Have a shower if you want. There’re plenty of towels and whatever in the bathroom. I’ll make breakfast when you’re done.”
“Right, um. Thanks.”Could this be any more embarrassing?If I had the car, I’d make my escape, but I don’t fancy doing a walk of shame to a cab. I fold my arms. I suppose Iwillfeel better after a shower.
“And Violet?”
Reluctantly, I meet his gaze. Not that it’s any hardship, but when in the presence of a sex god, a girl likes to look better than something the cat dragged in.
I didn’t find out if he’s a sex god or not.Seriously, I don’t think that question’s even up for debate.
“I’ll leave a T-shirt on my bed if you want to change into something else. Up to you.” His smile reaches deep inside and ignites a warm, tingling sensation, and I barely manage an articulateuh-huhin response.
Wearing one of his tees is a really bad idea.
But I’m going to, anyway.
By the time I’ve showered and towel dried my hair, I feel a lot better. That probably has something to do with the fact I’m surrounded by the scent of Lucas’s shower wash and shampoo, seductive and sinful.
It’s more than a bit of a turn on, and I indulge my senses for a few minutes before shaking off my fantasies and scooping up my discarded underwear.
Can’t say I’m thrilled to be wearing yesterday’s undies, but the only other option is going without knickers and bra and there’s no way I’m doingthat.
Even if that imagedoesexcite my girly bits more than it should.
I open the bathroom door. The bedside lamps are on, and I get my first good look at the bedroom, as I never did get around to cleaning in here on that first day. It’s huge, and opposite the bed looks like all windows, since there are ceiling-to-floor curtains taking up the entire wall.
On the rumpled black quilt is a white T-shirt, and on closer inspection there’s an embroidered dragon on the left breast pocket. I trace the dragon with my finger, and there’s a silly smile on my face, but I can’t help it.
He didn’t just grab the first thing in his wardrobe. He went to the trouble of finding one that had a connection with one of our conversations. How adorable is that?
I pull the tee over my head. The sleeves are way too big, to accommodate his impressive biceps, and it hangs down almost to my knees. The soft cotton also has a lingering Lucas scent about it, which makes me all warm and tingly again.
I rummage in my bag for my brush, not that there’s a lot in there to rummage through. I didn’t even think to bring any makeup, apart from the lipstick, and that’s no good on its own.
When my hair is tangle free, my teeth cleaned, and I’ve straightened his bed, there’s no more reason to procrastinate so I take a deep breath and open the bedroom door. Although it’s sexy wearing Lucas’s T-shirt, I’m under no delusion that I look anything other than ridiculous. Why is it girls in movies are always drop dead gorgeous in these situations?
I make my way across the wide hallway and hover by the door that leads directly into the kitchen. Lucas is in there, leaning against the worktop, his arms folded, and with a brooding expression on his face.
His hair is tousled, his shirt, with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, is crazily sexy, and his knee length shorts show off his muscular calves and bare feet to their finest advantage. On anyone else this would be casual and normal, but Lucas looks as though he’s been prepped for a top cover shoot.
He turns, and his breath-stealing smile is admiring.Oh wow, I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
Lucas
Whoa. Violet stands in the doorway, wearing my T-shirt, her damp hair framing her face. Something weird and hot twists deep inside my chest. She looks innocent and sweet, and so fucking sexy it takes all my willpower to keep my feet planted on the floor and not stride over and sweep her into my arms.
She’s not the first girl I’ve loaned a shirt to, but she’s the first who’s managed to scramble my brain in the process.
“Nice top,” she says, and strokes her hand over her breast. My dick stands to attention, and I make a primitive grunting sound becausewhat? “Love the dragon.”
The dragon. Right. I suck in oxygen to restart my brain.Wanker. “Thought you’d like it. Do you want pancakes?”
Jesus, I’m usually better at changing the subject thanthat.
“You’re making pancakes?” She sounds amazed that I know my way around a kitchen. “Do you want some help?”
