Page 67 of Badd Baby

Groaning, Rune thudded her head onto my chest. Paused like that for a few seconds, and then rolled away and out of bed. I watched her dig in her bag for a clean red thong and wiggle into it, and then find a plain white bra, hook the clasps at her diaphragm, swivel it around, fit her breasts into the cups, and shrug on the straps.

I've always found it almost as unbearably sexy to watch a woman dress as the other way.

"Don't look at me like that, Duncan," she muttered. "I'm late. I have to go."

“We were gonna talk," I said. "I have things to say."

She yanked a short, pastel pink sundress out of her bag and slipped it on, settled it to drape just right, and then shoved her feet into black ballet flats. "I have to go, Duncan."

I growled, annoyed. "I know."

She snagged her phone and keycard from the nightstand paused to stand over me, gazing down at me. "There's nothing to talk about, though."

"Yes, there is." I hooked a hand around her bare thigh beneath the dress. "There's a lot to talk about. You know what that was last night as well as I do."

She bent, kissed me, and pulled out of my reach. "I'll see you later, Dunc."

And then she was gone in a swirl of scent—woman, sex.

"Fuck." I forced myself to sit up, raking my hands through my hair. "I fell in love with a girl who doesn't love me back." I thunked myself in the forehead with a fist. "Smooth move, Ex-lax.”

I let myself wallow for a few more minutes, and then got up to shower the sex off of me.

Yet, even clean and dressed in my best suit, I couldn't erase the scent of Rune, the memory of the night we shared from my skin.

I am fucked. So very, very fucked.

Chapter Twelve

Rune

Lindsey had arranged for a glam squad to pamper the three of us. I opted to use Raquel's shower to rinse off while Lindsey got glammed up first, since I had been, um…rather busy last night. And this morning. I felt Lindsey's eyes on me as the effusive gay man doing my hair chattered on and on in a relentless patter about some ongoing personal drama with his boyfriend. And while the man's prattle annoyed me, it also provided a nice cover for me not to have to talk about Duncan.

Because I just couldn't handle talking about it. I'd bolted at the first opportunity rather than engage in a rational, adult conversation about our feelings.

Fuck that.

I know damn well that the sex last night was not just world-class fucking, I'll never forget. It altered my emotional chemistry. It shook the axis of my very existence.

Which is exactly why I'm not discussing it. I'm not in love with Duncan Badd. I can't be. I met him not two weeks ago. I barely know him. I haven't met his parents or his siblings—although I have met two of his uncles and one cousin. My life is in LA and his is here—well, here Alaska, not here Anchorage.

No, the best thing is to pretend it was just the hottest sex any two human beings have ever had, never to be repeated.

Except maybe tonight.

No.

I can't.

If I let myself fuck Duncan again, it'll only screw up my emotions even more. I need to make sure I get nice and drunk and pass out in Lindsey's room.

To that end, the three of us start day drinking with a pitcher of mimosas. Raquel was in hair and makeup, sipping her drink and actually engaging with Robbie's endless nattering, leaving Lindsey and me to finish getting ready.

Lindsey leaned toward me as I sipped my mimosa, doing so delicately in an attempt to smear my lipstick as little as possible. "You fucked him again, didn't you?"

I choked on champagne and OJ, coughing and gasping. "Dammit, Linz!"

She cackled. "You did!"