drunk.
I never do drunk.
I exhale the ache in my chest. “Let me take you to bed.”
Norah thrusts her fist into the air. “It’s about damn time, Moser.”
I wave good night to everybody and my dick yells at me the entire time I assist a stumbling, drunken Norah to our bedroom. This is going to be the longest goddamn night of my life.
“Where’s your suitcase?” I ask, steadying Norah as she sways on her feet in the middle of the bedroom.
“In the bathroom, why?” She hiccups, blinking her heavily mascaraed eyes slowly.
“Do you think you can find your pajamas?”
She grimaces. “What for? Won’t they just get in the way of our fake sexing?”
She wiggles her hips in what I’m certain she thinks is seductive so I press my lips together and try not to laugh at her. Drunken Norah is adorable and relaxed and…I need her to go put some pajamas on and go to bed so she can stop tempting me.
“First of all…fake sexing is not a thing. Just go change, okay?”
“Whatever you say, boss.” She giggles and turns to make her way into the bathroom.
I quickly dig into my suitcase for lounge pants and a T-shirt. The less skin exposed, the better for both of us. I grab some extra blankets and pillows out of the closet and make the sofa into a bed for me. I take my glasses off and sit down to wait for her to emerge, slowly reciting the ten golden rules of stock investing to get my mind out of the gutter. Avoid herd mentality, make informed decisions, invest in business you understand—
My list is interrupted when Norah emerges. The bright bathroom light bathes her in backlight so I can’t totally see what she’s wearing, but whatever it is…is not enough. “Norah, what the fuck are you wearing?” I ask, standing up and jamming a hand through my hair.
“It’s pajamas,” she says, swaying her hips to move the sad excuse for fabric that’s so see-through, I can see the outline of her body. “But really, it’s Rachael’s idea of a joke…like the vibrator. She somehow found the sluttiest, most revealing clothes I own…and that’s all that’s in my suitcase. I should have known letting her help pack was a bad idea. She’s a sand-bagging sonofabitch.”
Norah steps farther into the room and the lamp beside the bed casts a warm glow on her, and now I can fully appreciate Rachael’s joke. I tear my gaze away and look at the ceiling because the pajamas are completely sheer. Like her top she had on earlier, but this time, there’s no colorful bra underneath. All she has on now is a pair of pale pink panties with tiny fabric flower blooms along the edges and a tank top with matching flowers along the bottom hem. It’s loose and flowy and might be modest, except for the fact that I can see her pink-nippled breasts perfectly through the transparent fabric.
“So much better than a stripper,” I murmur under my breath as I stare at the crown molding in the ceiling.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” I tug my shirt off and offer it to her. “Put this on.”
She staggers in my peripheral and her hand flies out to catch herself against my abs. I grab her arms and make sure she’s okay. She’s thoughtfully chewing on her lip as her fingers dig into my stomach. She doesn’t attempt to hide the fact that she’s checking me out.
“You weren’t lying about the six-pack.”
My abs tighten with a silent laugh. “I’ve had to increase my workouts because of your damn croinuts.”
“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve said to me.” She smiles and looks at me, blinking slowly through hooded eyes, then lifts her hands up like a toddler waiting to be dressed. When I pull the shirt down over her head, she reaches up and presses her lips to mine.
I taste her for a moment, drinking in her soft, full lips that I’ve honestly fucking missed this entire week, but then force myself to pull back. “Norah…”
“It’s fake sexing time, Dean.”
“Still not a thing,” I murmur as she lifts her chin to kiss me again. “Norah, you’re wasted. We can discuss this in the morning.”
Her chin drops and she eyes me with confusion. “I think we’re past the discussion phase of the business deal and it’s time to have fake sex.”
I shake my head regretfully, my dick screaming obscenities at me because I know what she’s wearing under my shirt. “Not