Page 44 of Play With Me
Outside the sounds of the city are in full swing, though the morning light is dim. It has to be early still.
“Not really,” I croak. “I thought…” I thought I’d sleepwalked and ended up in someone else’s apartment. It had been years, but I had that same panicky feeling after waking up.
But was this any better? Jude was in my bed.
Jude.
I don’t remember how he got there. “How much did I drink last night?” I’m a known lightweight.
But before I know what’s happening, Jude’s long arm is reaching down, and he scoops me up and onto the bed.
My heart’s pounding in my chest as I look up. Jude’s eyes are closed, but he’s got a dopey smile on his face. He’s still drunk, it’s the only explanation.
“A lot,” he murmurs, answering my question.
A moment later, his mouth falls open slightly and the snoring starts up again.
My whole body zings, both from the shock of him being here, and...well, that’s it. Him being here. I’m lying almost toe-to-toe with him, if my toes reached further down than his shins. I can feel the heat coming off of him.
I need to extract myself from this situation, but for a moment I don’t move.
The part of me that’s screwing everything up with him tells me to savor it, because this is probably the one and only time Jude Kelly will be in my bed.
I relax slightly, trying to remember how this transpired.
Think.
After a moment, it comes to me. Vaguely, I remember stumbling down the hall with him to my flat, insisting he stay over instead of trying to get a car back to his hotel. That’s crazy, because that means I knew we were going to have to sleep in the same bed. I only have a tiny love seat for a couch in this flat, and it’s way too small even for me to comfortably sleep on.
“I’ll take the floor,” Jude had said. It’s coming back to me now. I smile as I remember him stripping off his clothes, not seductively, but nearly tripping on his pants. He immediately laid on the hardwood floor in the living room. But not before plucking a tissue from the box on the coffee table and laying it over his chest like a tiny blanket.
I’d nearly cried laughing, but eventually managed to urge him up and to the bed. By the time I got back from getting my PJs on in the bathroom, he was sawing logs.
I’d been disappointed, I remember now. I’d lain here on the sliver of bed next to him recalling standing in Sasha’s kitchen earlier.
His hand on my face, his blue eyes like molten metal on mine.
I touch my face now. Last night I thought I would orgasm from him looking at me like that. Touching me, barely. After the years of pretending I was fine just being friends with him.
Nothing happened between us. I know not just because we’re fully clothed, but because I know he’d never try anything with me, period. Especially not while we were both drunk.
I don’t think. But what if I did something in my sleep? What if I…said something?
“Jude,” I whisper.
He stops snoring and grunts.
Jude moves then, but instead of opening his eyes, he hooks a hand over my waist and pulls me against him. He slides his hand under my head so my cheek is resting on his arm, his other one settling heavily over my hips. “Okay, Nor?” he murmurs, not opening his eyes.
My heart thuds in my chest, heat zinging down to my lower half. I’m weak with Jude. Pathetic. But I don’t think I said anything. He’d be acting differently, wouldn’t he? Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe that knocks me out too hard to sleep-talk. I wouldn’t know, I rarely get drunk like I did last night. “Okay,” I whisper.
Jude makes a low growling sound that tickles something deep inside of me. Then his breathing gets immediately deep again.
Damn this man. And damn my body for responding to him.
My breasts are pressed up against his forearm wedged between us, and I feel my nipples stiffening. I swear I can even feel the brush of the blond hair there through the thin fabric of my pajama top.
Move, Nora.
