“You can stay with me tonight,” she said, holding on to his jacket lapels as he tried to help her into bed.
“I don’t think I will. You need to sleep this off.”
“I didn’t drink that much,” she insisted, collapsing onto the mattress as soon as Keith let go of her. “Just a few glasses of champagne.”
“I know that. But for you it’s a lot. So the best thing for you to do is rest. Eva doesn’t come home from your mom’s until tomorrow afternoon, so you can sleep in late if you want to.”
“I never sleep in late.” She huffed as if he’d insulted her. She was clumsily reaching behind her, and it took it a minute for him to figure out she was trying to unzip her dress.
He reached down to do it for her.
“Thank you.” She shimmied out of it, leaving herself in just her bra and panties.
Keith’s whole body tightened painfully as he leered down at the soft, full curves of her body. He’d never seen her like this before, and he wanted her so much he could barely move.
“Do I look good?” she asked, evidently reading something in his face despite her state of intoxication.
“You look gorgeous.” His voice came out as almost a growl.
“Thank you.” She preened visibly in pleasure. “You can stay and have sex with me if you want.”
He almost choked. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Don’t you want to?”
“Of course I want to. But you weren’t ready yesterday, so I can’t be sure you’re ready today. You can wait and decide when you haven’t had so much to drink.”
“But I do want to have sex with you.” The declaration seemed to use up all her energy. She closed her eyes and added in a soft mumble, “I never realized how much. I must have been blind.”
“I hope so. But we’ll wait and talk about it tomorrow.” He was hard as a rock in his pants, and his heart was galloping like crazy. It wouldn’t take much for him to reach down and finally have what he’d wanted for so long.
But he’d never do that to her. Or to himself. Because what he wanted was all of her—consciously given and not fallen into because her inhibitions were lowered from champagne.
“Okay,” she said agreeably. “Can you get me a nightgown please?”
“Yes.” He turned around, deeply relieved to have a reason to move and also to cover up some of her luscious, naked flesh. When he found a gown in her dresser drawer, he walked back to the bed and helped her put it on.
She got it over her head but then worked on taking off her bra before she put her arms in the sleeves. He had to turn his back to keep from watching.
“I’m done,” she told him after a minute. “I didn’t want to sleep in my bra.”
“Makes sense to me.”
She’d tossed her bra on the floor, and it looked dangerously sexy sprawled out on the hardwood. Keith made himself look away. “Okay. Get under the covers and go to sleep. I’ll be next door if you need anything.”
“Okay. You sure you don’t want to have sex?”
“Not tonight.”
“Okay. Maybe tomorrow.”
He made another guttural sound but made himself walk toward the door.
“I love you, Keith,” she called out to his back.
He froze. Couldn’t move.
“Don’t you love me too?” she asked when he didn’t answer.
“Yes. You know I do.”
“Okay. Good. Good night.”
“Good night,” he rasped.
With great effort, he put one foot in front of the other until he’d made it to the door. He locked it behind him when he left.
seven
SERENA WOKE UP IN THE morning with a pounding headache, which was hardly unexpected. Since it was still early, she gulped down a bottle and a half of water, took some ibuprofen, went to the bathroom, and then lay back down to sleep again.
The next time she woke up, it was after ten, and her headache had faded to a dull throbbing. Since it was bearable this time, she took a couple of swallows of water from the half-filled bottle on her nightstand. Then she reached for her phone.
Nothing had come in during the night except a couple of junk messages.
Keith’s texts were at the top of her list. She opened his thread and tapped out a message. You awake?
Yes. You feel ok?
Headache. Not too bad.
Good. Feel like company?
Sure. Come on over.
She was still in bed in a nightgown she must have put on when she’d gotten home last night. Some of the evening was fuzzy in her mind, but she knew Keith had stayed with her. He’d brought her home. It felt like she’d had a good time and must not have embarrassed herself too much.
Keith had promised not to let her, and she trusted him completely.
A knock on her front door preceded the sound of a key in the lock. “I’m here,” he called out.
She couldn’t see the entryway from her bedroom, but she assumed he must have stuck his head into the apartment before he walked in.
“Come on in,” she told him. “I haven’t gotten out of bed yet.”
In a few seconds, he was standing in her bedroom doorway, dressed in old sweats and a T-shirt. He hadn’t shaved, and his hair was kind of rumpled, but he looked absolutely scrumptious. “Hey there,” he said warmly. “So you don’t feel too terrible?”
“No. My head hurt worse earlier, but I drank a bunch of water and took some Advil. I’m fine. Kind of sketchy about all the details from last night though.”
He walked closer to the bed. “So you can’t remember what happened?”
“I remember some things but not everything. For instance, I can’t seem to remember putting this nightgown on. Did I... did I manage that on my own?”
He chuckled. He looked as relaxed and easygoing as usual. Not awkward or self-conscious. She must not have done anything too mortifying if he looked so unconcerned. “I helped a little, but you did most of it.”
“Oh good. I’m a pretty stupid drunk, and I didn’t want to have put you in an uncomfortable situation.”
“You didn’t. It was fine. Everyone is a stupid drunk.” He paused and glanced away as if he’d just thought of something.
“What?” she demanded. “If I did something, you have to tell me.”
“You didn’t do anything bad. You danced a lot and laughed a lot and had a good time. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But when we got home, you did take your dress off. In front of me. I’d feel bad about not telling you that even though it wasn’t a problem.” He scrutinized her face, obviously checking for her reaction.
She groaned and closed her eyes. “Sorry.”
“I told you it wasn’t a problem. So don’t be sorry on my account. I’m sorry if that’s not something you would have wanted to do. I did my best to look away.” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t entirely successful.”
Maybe it was a lingering effect of the champagne, but she collapsed into giggles. “You weren’t?”
“No.” He twitched his eyebrows. “I was bad. Just a little. I’m sorry.”