herself lulled back toward sleepiness. She also felt something wet on her pillow.
Lexi froze. The heavenly fingers stopped and then disappeared. The clicking started up again, and every detail from last night came rushing back in HD. Unfortunately, she’d not only lost her dinner all over Marc’s shirt, she’d also lost signal somewhere around the time Marc slung her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs to her apartment.
Desperate not to wake up her bedmate, Lexi gently slid her left hand—the other was stuck beneath his body—under the covers and did a quick walk-of-shame pat-down. She’d never done the walk of shame, hard to do when you’d only ever been with one man, but secretly she’d fantasized about it once or twice.
Yup, completely naked except for a bra.
Abby would be so proud…until she heard that the shame in question was her brother.
Eyes closed, she took stock. She was practically naked, her arm asleep and trapped between the mattress and her ex’s best bro, and the room spun so fast she was pretty sure she was still drunk.
Had she really slept with Marc DeLuca? And if so, why couldn’t she have been sober enough to remember the experience? For the first time in her life she had done something wild and irresponsible, and she hadn’t even been present for the main event. Worse still, she was trapped and would have to face him not knowing if she was even any good.
She was such a failure.
Slowly she tried to slide her arm out. When he didn’t budge except to grunt and roll closer, she threw the covers over her head and decided to feign sleep until he got bored and left.
“Unless you’re willing to chew through your arm, I’m pretty sure he’ll outwait you.”
Lexi pulled back the covers and immediately threw them over her head again. Her eyes were dry and irritated, and she didn’t know what made her feel worse, the sun piercing her brain through her retinas or the sight of big brown eyes staring back at her.
“Rise and shine, cream puff.” Marc ripped the sheets back, and Lexi gasped.
She was lying in a puddle of drool, next to a man who was very much dressed in shorts and a tee and sitting on top of the covers, while she was spooning his dog for all she was worth. She grabbed the sheets back from Marc and covered herself.
Wait! He was in different clothes. Maybe they did…
“Why are you dressed in”—sheets to chin, she eyed his new clothes—“those?”
Marc looked up from his laptop, and the clicking stopped. “I could take them off, but I think Wingman might get a little jealous. He’s not really into sharing. We’re working on that though, huh, boy?”
Boy barked, his tail thumping the mattress.
“No, I mean, where are your shirt and pants?”
“In the dryer. They got a little dirty last night, so I went to my place and grabbed a few things after you passed out.”
She groaned, remembering just how his pants got dirty. Turning her head back to look at Wingman, who was panting happily in her face, she asked Marc, “What are you even doing here?”
“Holding your hair while you went to church for most of the night. Listening to you snore for the rest of it. I brought you some coffee. It’s on the nightstand.”
“I don’t snore. And”—she sniffed hazelnut and vanilla—“thank you.”
“Then there was the moment when you decided your jeans were too tight. That was a highlight. Almost as good as when the shirt went flying. But my favorite part”—Marc set his laptop aside and leaned in close, his lips grazing her ear when he whispered—“was when you shimmied out of that red thong.”
“I did not!”
“Really?” He held up his hand. A pair of red-lace panties dangled from his finger.
“Give those back!” She grabbed the panties and, shoving them under the sheet, slid them on. He might not be able to see under there, but she wasn’t taking any chances. “Now go away.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
Lexi shot up, taking the blankets with her and sending Wingman flying off the edge of the bed. He landed in a tangled heap of paws and tail and looked around, his big doggie eyes wary and confused.
“Expecting company?” Marc asked with an amused smile.
“No, and why are you smiling like that? What if it’s our grandmas? They come over sometimes on Saturday for breakfast. One look at us and—”