Page 25 of Embracing the Beat
WEST
Slowly, I open my eyes, sure my alarm is going to go off any minute for school.
It’s Saturday.
Mmm. Good. I’m so relaxed, I don’t want to get up. The benefit of recognizing it’s Saturday morning and I can sleep in settles over me, and I burrow farther against the soft mattress and sheets, squeezing my arms around—
Holy shit. From relaxed to frozen in an instant. My breath stalls in my lungs as Michaela nuzzles against my chest.
My cock stirs against her hip, ready for another round, and I recite battle dates of the Revolution to calm down.
Storming of Fort William and Mary. Battles of Lexington and Concord. Siege of Boston.
Who am I kidding? So long as her breath still whispers across my chest and the silk of her hair wraps around my fingers, I’m going to want to wake her up the way we went to sleep—with me buried so far inside her that I forget where I end and she begins.
No, moron, quit thinking with your dick. He got you into this mess to begin with.
She’d looked gorgeous in a dress that hit her mid-thigh when I found her outside the speakeasy. Like a Christmas present meant just for me. And I enjoyed the fuck out of unwrapping her.
What would Sawyer say? Remember him? Your best friend? Her older brother?
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
If that’s not enough to deflate my hard-on, my next thought is.
She’s a famous rock star. What would she want with a broke as fuck high school history teacher?
I attempt to slide out from under her, but her arm tightens, her hand brushing my nipple and creating a painful rush of blood to my groin.
“West,” she murmurs, freezing me in place.
One breath, two, and she relaxes against me again. Breathing a sigh of relief, I slide to the edge of the bed and replace my body with a long pillow we knocked to the floor last night.
She instinctively curls against the pillow, and my eyes catch on the smooth expanse of skin exposed from her shoulder to her calves, her breast peeking through her hair. A siren begging me to lie back down and pull her into my arms. I can still taste the tight bud in my mouth, and it waters for another sample.
Dude, quit ogling her like a pervert and retreat!
She tightens her hold on the pillow, her brow furrowing, and I tuck the covers around her, watching until she relaxes fully once more.
I feel like a dick, sneaking out in the middle of the night like this. But my guilt doesn’t stop me from leaning over and snagging my clothes where they lie scattered on the floor. I move slowly, both reluctant to leave as well as careful to not make a sound. I don’t want a witness to my cowardice.
The door squeaks open as I turn the knob, and I freeze, whipping my head back to her and releasing a sigh of relief when she doesn’t move. With a sigh, I step into the hall, pulling the door closed behind me and vowing to spray some WD-40 on the squeaky hinge.
Why? Planning another sneak out? What about sneaking in?
I silence that bad idea and take the ten paces to my room, not daring to breathe until my door is closed and locked behind me.
“Because I need to lock her out,” I say and undo the lock with a roll of my eyes, then crawl into my own bed. “You’re an idiot, Abbott.”
I should never have slept with my best friend’s baby sister, no matter how beautiful she is.
Staring at my ceiling, I miss the warm weight of her on my chest, and I swear the scent of her jasmine and apple perfume still tickles my nose. Her scent must be on me since she hasn’t been in here. I flop to my other side as I consider taking a shower. Maybe I should. Clean slate.
But the other part of me argues that I’ll need to shower later, and I should enjoy the way her scent wraps around me as long as I can. Because eventually I’ll need to get my head on straight.
By the time the sun comes up, I’m committed. Last night may have been one of the hottest experiences of my life, but it can’t happen again.
It’s a mantra I repeat to myself as I stumble down the hall to wash the scent of her down the drain. When my dick twitches with the hope of her catching me in the hallway in only a thin towel.
