One Night A Real Man - Jenika Snow Page 0,12

late.

There were those three gray dots that told me he wasn’t done yet.

Braxton: I can be there in ten to take you to get your cars.

Me: Thanks, man.

I tossed my cell back on the bedside table and pushed the sheet off me, standing and walking over to the dresser then throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

“Leila?” I pulled on some socks then made my way out of the bedroom. She couldn’t have left. She didn’t have her car. But maybe she called for someone to pick her up. That had my heart tightening. We had to talk about this, about last night. It would be hard, but hell, surely it had been so fucking right to her too. It had been like that for me.

I heard the toilet flush in the guest bathroom and walked down the hall toward it. The door was closed, the light coming out from underneath the bottom. “Leila?” I called out softly a few feet from the bathroom, my heart racing. There was a moment of silence, and when I was about to call her name again, I heard her clear her throat.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a bit.” Her voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear her. She sounded different, and I hated it, because I knew she remembered everything too.

I rested my head against the door and closed my eyes, breathing out. “Okay,” I said gently, maybe too low for her to hear me. I told myself I’d give her all the time she needed, but a part of me knew that was a lie.

We both had to face this. It couldn’t be glossed over or pushed aside. We couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. There was absolutely no way I could have done that anyway. Even now, I smelled her on my skin, remembered the feeling of her under me… of being inside her.

But instead of pushing this subject, I turned and left her alone. She could have time… but not very much of it.

9

Leila

Not only did I have one God-awful headache, but my world had just done a total flip, and not in a good way. I scrubbed a hand over my face and breathed out, my hangover so damn fierce I felt like throwing up.

I wanted to sneak the hell out of here before Devon had woken up, call a cab, and just get my car, avoiding this morning-after situation. But I heard him on the other side of the door, which caused that plan to go right out the damn window.

And now I had to face him, to do the “walk of shame,” and that scared the hell out of me.

I let my hands land on the bathroom counter, curled my fingers around the edge of the sink. And then I just stared at myself in the mirror, cursing internally, hating myself in that moment for not being stronger.

I couldn’t even blame last night on being too drunk to know what I was doing, because although I had been pretty intoxicated, I’d been with it enough to know I all but seduced my best friend. I had sex with him, and on top of that, it had been unprotected.

“God,” I whisper-groaned, looking a hot mess as I stared at my reflection. My eyes were bloodshot, dark bags underneath. My hair looked like a rat had been trying to make a nest in it, and I could see my lips were red and swollen, my cheeks slightly flushed. And I knew that redness on my face wasn’t just because I was hungover, but also because I was getting warm thinking about what Devon and I had done.

My cheeks and lips were red because of the erotic abrasion when he had his face pressed against mine, his scruff moving along my delicate skin as he thrust in and out of me, as he devoured my mouth.

I closed my eyes and held off my moan, one that was a mixture of pleasure but also fear and just not feeling good. I didn’t know what the hell either of us had been thinking. He’d been just as drunk as I was, so maybe he hadn’t really—fully—realized the implications of being together like that.

But it was too late to think about the “what ifs” or the repercussions. It was all said and done, and I had to face the fact that things were most definitely different between Devon and me.

It was unavoidable, something I couldn’t just push away. This stone wall