Page 15

Eve

I yawn and stretch before opening my eyes. I hate mornings. Especially mornings like this. Luckily, they are few and far between. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I felt this bad. I drank too much last night, and my pounding head is a stark reminder that I’m not twenty anymore.

A large, heavy arm plops over my body, pinning me to the mattress, slinking around me, and tucking me close to its owner.

My eyes shoot open, ready to fight my way free from whoever is holding me against my will.

Except, when I find myself looking into Tate Grimm’s dark, chestnut eyes, I don’t want to push him away. I want to scoot closer.

“Morning, beautiful.” He strokes the side of my face and tucks a lock of unruly hair behind my ear. “How’d you sleep?”

Leaning on my forearm, I push myself up and glance around the unfamiliar room with more questions than answers .

“Um . . . are we in your room?”

“My room. My bed.” He smirks and kisses my forehead. “You weren’t too coherent after you threw up.”

“Threw up?” I’m mortified.

I pull the blanket down to look myself over.

I’m overcome with embarrassment as I find myself swimming in an unfamiliar T-shirt and shorts, and I try to recall the events of the previous night.

At least I’m clean. But I don’t have the slightest memory of getting out of my clothes and into Tate’s.

If I had doubts when I first woke, I don’t anymore. I’m hungover.

“I bet you have a banging headache right about now.”

I don’t answer as I fight the wave of nausea threatening to give me a repeat performance of the lackluster excitement of the previous night. I close my eyes, working hard to keep whatever is still in my stomach right where it is.

“Why do I remember lying on the hood of a black sports car?” I ask, bringing my hand to my head, hoping to ease the pounding.

“You remember that, huh?” His lips curl upward, and I notice thin lines at the corners of his eyes as he smiles. While the lines hint that he’s aging, the smile makes him look like a teenager who just pulled one over on his parents.

“Vaguely.” I’m afraid he’s going to ask for details of what I do remember and offer to fill in the missing blanks. Blanks I’m not sure I want filled in. “Tate?” I say his name tentatively, afraid to hear the truth. “Did we have sex on the hood of your car? ”

Eye to eye, he studies my face and remains silent long enough for me to feel self-conscious and uncomfortable. He holds the side of my head with his big hand and drags his thumb across my cheek.

“Would that be so bad?”

I close my eyes tight. Memories of hot, intense kissing flood my body and mind as he tenderly brushes his lips over the top of my head. Heat surges through me.

“No.” What would be bad is having no memory of it. I bite my lip, nervous about the foggy details I can’t recall.

“Then you don’t have to worry,” he whispers, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me back to a lying position. “But to answer your question... We kissed. A lot.” He demonstrates by kissing my neck. “And then,” he stops kissing me and stares. “You threw up. A lot.”

I moan, confused. “I don’t understand. We didn’t drink that much.”

He smooths my hair before resting his head on his hand.

“You were upset. You didn’t eat much throughout the day, and we did go through almost two bottles of wine.”

My eyes open, along with my mouth, in disbelief.

“When I say we, I mean mostly you.”

He doesn’t move to get out of bed, which surprises me. Actually, having spent the night in his bed next to him is surreal. Careful to keep my hand in front of my mouth so I don’t kill him with morning breath mixed with vomit, I try to put together the sequence of events from the previous evening .

“So we kissed?” I ask, moving my hand so he can hear me clearly. “And that’s it?”

Again, he takes his time answering my question. I think he likes making me squirm under his scrutiny. “That’s it. I want to note that it did take a lot of strength on my behalf to decline your very generous offer.”

“Which was?” My stomach tightens as the memory hits me, even before he says a word.

“While I would give up sex in every form for a month to see you sprawled out naked on my baby—”

I hold my hand up to stop him. “You don’t have to say anymore. I remember.”

“Are you sure? You were pretty drunk. I think you should hear me out.”

“I said I remember. You can stop talking.”

Another panty-melting smile. “Eve . . .”

“Stop! Please.” Can I melt into the mattress? Please?

“Eve, look at me.”

My heart sinks hard and fast like Tate Grimm just threw it down an elevator shaft for it to splatter on the hard cement below.

I push myself up, toss off the blanket, and sit on the side of the bed with my feet on the floor. I can’t even get a good look at his room, it’s spinning too fast.

“Whoa.” Tate kneels in front of me. “Lie back down, and let me get you some water and ibuprofen.”

“Are you sure?”

“As a heart attack.” He offers a playful smirk.

“You have your sayings all mixed up. ”

“I guess you do remember last night.” He sweeps my feet off the floor and helps settle me on the bed with pillows behind my back. “Now that I have you in my bed, I’m not about to let you run away.”