Page 2 of Hot Blooded

I swear I know him. I push that thought out of my mind when the full scope of what I did hits me.

Did we? I take stock of my body and don’t feel what I think I should feel after a night of debauchery. I was, I mean, am a virgin. My head swims with the leftover alcohol-induced confusion. Surely, I would feel something if we did…it.

My girlfriends last night would have been laughing their asses off at this point. What college woman is a twenty-two year old virgin? None of them that’s for sure. My cheeks burn when I take stock of all the stories I’ve listened to over the years.

And yet…not one of them woke up in Vegas in a strange man’s bed and unable to remember if they lost their virginity or not. Shame sneaks up on me when I picture the disappointment on my dad’s face. He will literally shake his head when he hears about this. He thought he raised me right and then instead of going home, because I’m afraid to tell him that I want something he doesn’t want me to, I go out and party with my girlfriends and wake up in a stranger’s hotel room.

Ugh. It’s worse than cliche.

I lift my hand up to run it through my hair and a strange glint catches my eye. Hissing out a breath, I hold my hand out in front of me and it feels like I can’t breathe. My heart stops and I cannot breathe, strangling on the sucked-in air that feels like it’s gotten stuck in my throat.

“What the fuck is this?” I gasp out on a choked rattle of air.

“What?” That husky, deep voice says next to me. And then he turns over and it feels like the bed is tilting. My eyes widen but yet my vision blurs. Everything stills in the room and all I can do is stare at the man in the bed with me. The half-naked man who’s almost old enough to be my father and happens to be one of his best friends.

The man I’ve been crushing on and cursing out in my head since I was just a hormonal sixteen-year old who first realized what that sexy adonis belt on the side of a guy’s waist led to.

Sucking on a breath and then choking desperately to clear my windpipe has got to be the least sexy thing to do when you find yourself shacked up with your teenage wet dream.

Especially when he thumps your back vigorously, his naked, dusted-with-hair chest is right next to your face and you can almost smell that delicious manly scent that hangs over him every damn day. Pine and spice and just….fucking intoxicating.

I’m thinking all this as he thumps on my back. Until I notice the matching ring glinting on his hand and for the first time in my life, everything goes black.

TOM

“Shit!” Reva’s gorgeous green eyes roll to the back of her head and she flops back on the bed like a dying carp.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I holler and jump out of the bed, running to the bathroom to grab a wet rag. I don’t even think about the fact that I’m naked and so is she. Well…at least not a lot. Her gorgeous curves are covered by the sheets and blankets but my imagination is doing a fantastic job of filling in the blanks of what she looks like from the shoulders down and my dick is so hard I could pound nails with it.

Grabbing the wet cloth, I run back to the bedroom and skid to a stop when I realize the blankets have slipped. One rosy-tipped and perfectly gorgeous breast is winking at me and my brain atrophies. Just fucking freezes. Choking on a breath, I wrench that fucking blanket back up, looking away, before I put the cold rag on her forehead and grab her hand, chafing it between my own.

Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do when somebody faints? I should know this right? Irritation zings through me when I can’t remember. Seriously? I don’t need this. Her head starts to move, slowly sliding back and forth on the damn pillow and my eyes widen when I realize she’s about to wake up and I’m naked as the day I was born, although this time I’ve got a fucking piece of steel between my legs that she’s about to get a damn good luck at.

Jumping backwards, I almost trip over my suitcase but manage to right my naked ass and grab the first clothes in it, a pair of lounge pants, and slip them on, cursing when I realize you can still clearly see that I’m hard as rock. It’s sticking out like a damn baseball bat.

Running around the bed, I jump back under the covers to hide and just manage to rearrange myself when her green eyes open. Her hand lifts to push her long strawberry-blond hair out of her eyes and a metallic glint on her hand catches my eye. Horror sucks my breath out of my body like a tsunami pulls the tide back out to sea.

“Are you fucking married?” Oh shit, I would never sleep with a married woman! Would I?

After my own wife slept around with anything with a dick, I promised myself that I would never do anything like that.

Which is why I’ve enjoyed myself immensely with every woman out there with a pulse, at least if they understood that I wasn’t looking for a commitment. I just wanted to fuck their beautiful bodies and make us both feel good without adding the extra element of fidelity and actual feelings to it.

I will gladly give them the most orgasms in their lives but I don’t want to catch feelings again.

I mean…not any more than I have. From the time Reva came home after her first year of college I’ve been thinking about the little redhead with the generous rack with some very bad feelings. Very bad thoughts. Thoughts of what I’d like to do with that rack and how good I’d make her feel.

But it was just thoughts. She’s too young for me and she’s the kind of girl you marry and happily fuck for the rest of your life. She’s not the kind that you fuck around with. Especially not if you know her daddy as well as I do. And you know that he’d kill you with his bare hands if you touched his baby girl.

“Reva!” I holler as she stays mute. “Wake the fuck up! What are you doing here?”

Her confused green eyes slip to me and they narrow on my bare chest, her gaze trailing down the dusting of hair on my chest and then lower until her heated gaze is making my dick jerk.

“Wh-what is going on here?”

“Look at your hand,” she sighs and scrubs at her eyes with the wet cloth, like she’s wiping away whatever vision she’s having.

I hold my trembling hand out and groan, eyes widening when I see the masculine version of her diamond-studded gold band on my large finger.