Page 45 of Play With Me
But I can’t. All I can do is stare.
He looks like a Viking with his blond hair rumpled, loose across his cheek. His arm is heavy; thick with long, lean muscle, just like the rest of him. It’s not the one that won all those championships. That one is curled up between us, his long, tapered fingers only an inch from my jaw. He’s beautiful, even on that brink of drunk and hungover, and even with his mouth hanging open snoring like an outboard motor.
The whole of his torso is only inches from me, broad and tight, skin smooth, though his body is slack now in sleep. I inhale his scent. His fresh and athletic smelling soap—he took a shower last night before coming over. I know he did because his hair was still wet, and he looked like a god.
Not that he doesn’t always look like that.
My stomach flips at the same time as my chest aches. I really do need to get out of this bed. I can’t think like this. It feels too good. I move slightly, but his arm is pinning me down. I lift my hand up like I’m going to touch him, to draw my fingers along the flat front of his chest, down his stomach.
I won’t; I know that’s not right. I press my hand on the sheet between us, but that only draws my eyes down to where brown hair fuzzes a line below his belly button, disappearing into the waistband of his boxer shorts. Only a thin layer of cotton is separating us right now.
Heat surges between my legs.
Oh God, Nora, you pervert!
A sharp buzzing startles me back to my senses. I wince. That pulsing in my head is now the beginnings of a monstrous headache. My phone is facedown on my glass-top side table. Jude stirs at the second buzz, rolling slightly onto his back, twisting the sheet over his legs as he does. My eyes drop back down to his shorts.
How can they not, with that tall tent right at their center.
My mouth goes dry. Oh my God. He’s got a—
My phone buzzes for the third time, and I slide out of Jude’s arms as quickly as I can without disturbing him. He could wake up, and I wouldn’t be able to keep from staring at his hard-on. Then what?
I climb out of bed, swiping my phone up from the bedside table.
When I look at the screen, I realize I don’t recognize the number.
UNKNOWN: Don’t forget! Train travel today to Zurich, Switzerland - Two Hearts Booking
I’m so confused, I stand there a minute, trying to register what I’m reading. Two Hearts Booking—that’s Sasha’s sister’s travel agency in Connecticut. How would she have my number instead of Sasha’s? And why is…
My stomach drops as a hazy memory comes back from last night: Jude, Sasha, and I out on the little balcony off her living room.
Jude sputters. I nearly drop my phone, catching it with a swing of my arm.
I run from the room, barely remembering to switch the deadbolt as I leave my apartment so I don’t get locked out. I’m sprinting down the hall in my bare feet. Murray is readjusting the potted plant at the far end of the hallway, of fucking course. His jaw practically falls open and I remember I’m in only a T-shirt. Braless, of course, though thank God I’m wearing underwear.
I land at Sasha’s door, banging on it hard.
“Ms. Albright? Everything okay?”
“Not now, Murray!” I say. Then I bang on the door again.
“If you’re locked out—”
“I said not now!” I yell, startling him to standing. He’s never seen me like this. Good.
The door swings open, an alarmed and thoroughly hungover Sasha standing there, confused. “Why are you yelling at Murray at”—she checks her watch—“seven thirty in the fucking morning!”
“You say that like it’s the crack of dawn!”
“Itisthe crack of dawn, on holidays!”
“Sasha,” I say, holding my phone out to her. “Why do I have a train booked today for Switzerland?”
Sasha frowns, reading my phone with a squint. Then, to my shock, she grins. “Don’t you remember?”
“What, your sister getting my number by accident?”
