Page 78 of Diego

I turn my head slowly. “You’re awake.”

One dark eye opens.

Then the other.

His gaze settles on me, and a lazy smile spreads across his face as if waking up naked beside me in someone else’s bed is exactly how he expected his morning to begin. “I am now.”

I stare at him.

He looks completely relaxed. His hair is disordered from sleep; there is a faint crease from the pillow along one side of his face, and his arm remains comfortably draped around my middle. Somehow, even half asleep, he’s insanely attractive. It's almost offensive.

And I resent him for it immediately.

“Do you know what time it is?”

His eyes flick toward the bedside table. “No.”

“That was not a rhetorical question.”

That earns me another faint smile. Diego reaches for his phone without releasing me, squints at the screen, and says, “Seven eighteen.”

“Seven—” I bolt upright.

His arm slides away as I sit, dragging the blanket against my chest while panic surges through me with enough force to wipe away the last traces of sleep.

“Seven eighteen?”

Diego pushes himself onto one elbow. “I believe that's what I said.”

“The seller.”

That gets a slight crease between his brows. “What about the seller?”

“He’s coming back today.”

I scramble out of bed with the blanket wrapped tightly around me and immediately look around for my clothes.

There are none.

For one second, I stare at the floor beside the bed as though my shirt, skirt, bra, and underwear might materialize there if I concentrate hard enough. Then the reason they are missing catches up with me, along with another vivid rush of memory.

The kitchen.

Right.

My shirt and bra came off on the island. My skirt and panties followed. Diego undressed there too, except for his jacket, which I distinctly remember trying to wrestle off him somewhere closer to the living room. By the time he carried me into this bedroom, neither of us had been wearing anything at all.

“Oh, my God.”

Behind me, Diego yawns.

Actually yawns.

I whip around. “Why are you yawning?”

He blinks at me from the bed, his hair thoroughly mussed from sleep—and my hands—and his expression entirely too relaxed. “Because I just woke up.”

“We slept here.”