What the fuck did I do last night?
I sit up in bed, scrubbing a hand down my face. My mouth is dry, my muscles ache as if I ran a damn triathlon. I exhale and look down at the sheets.
Bailey. Sunflower. Fuck.
My gaze swings to the spot beside me as if I’ll find her there. But just as I suspect them to be, the sheets are cold, bare. I swallow thickly. Maybe she went to make breakfast or something? Fuck, this was a bad idea. The worst. I never should’ve given in to her. I never should’ve crossed that fucking line.
But you wanted to, you prick. I can’t deny it. I can’t deny the longing I’ve had for her. Since we were teenagers, I’ve wanted her. I made the mistake of kissing her one time before, we were still in high school then. We didn’t talk for weeks after… weeks that were like hell to me, and I swore never to kiss her again. Well, I did a whole lot more than kiss her last night.
I’m such a fucking idiot. I have to make this right. But how the hell do I do that? I can’t tell her that I didn’t mean to fuck her last night... because I definitely meant to fuck her. In fact, I meant to do so again this morning. That’s all I could think about when I fell asleep with her sprawled out on my chest.
Knowing damn well she’s no longer here, I untangle myself from the sheets, and for more than the simple reason of her absence inside the bedroom, I shove from the bed, my knees wobbly as I do. Fucking Christ. I’ve ruined everything and even knowing that, I don’t regret what I did last night. I don’t regret being selfish and giving in to what we both wanted, needed.
I just fucking hope she doesn’t hate me, doesn’t regret last night, because God knows I don’t, and I never will. Bailey was everything I expected her to be and more. Perfection wrapped up in a tight bow. I unwrapped her and devoured her from the inside out and if she was here right now, I would do it again.
I would eat her like she was my breakfast.
Smiling smugly, I walk into the bathroom. There’s what looks to be blood on my abdomen, as well as my cock. I stare down at myself, my brows pinching together.
My heart rate spikes. Did I… I remember her telling me I didn’t hurt her, so why is there blood on my cock? Christ, did she lie to me? I don’t remember her giving me any indication that she was in pain, but then again, things are still a little fuzzy in my mind right now.
Fuck me, if I hurt her, I’ll never forgive myself. I turn the shower on and wait for the room to fill with steam before stepping into the spray. The water is scalding, but relaxes me, making the memories from last night easier to remember. I think about last night as I wash my hair and body, scrubbing away the dried blood from my skin.
Unable to think about anything else, I try to remember everything from the night before. Had I torn her? I wasn’t rough with her, was I? She was tighter than I had expected her to be... almost as if…
Fuck. I shut off the water and get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my middle before padding back out into the bedroom.
There’s no way she was still a virgin… no way, right? A woman as beautiful as her would have men beating down her door. It can’t be that I popped her cherry. It can’t be.
I toss the sheet onto the floor and spot the smear of blood against the cream-colored sheets immediately. Dizziness slams into me, and I squeeze my eyes shut and thrust my fingers into my hair. What have I done?
I shake my head. No, she would have told me. Why wouldn’t she tell me? I start to pace. I try to look for another explanation, racking my brain for more clues from last night, but everything I remember points to the same answer.
Virgin. She was a virgin. The liquid courage comment, her never having been eaten out before, how nervous she looked, and how fucking tight she was… fuck! I screwed up. I ruined us, ruined everything. How could I have been so dumb? How did I not put it together last night?
Sagging down onto the mattress, I hold my head in my hands. Not only did we cross the line, obliterating years of friendship, but she gave me her virginity. Her fucking virginity. The one thing girls hold sacred. The one thing that should’ve been given to someone deserving of it. Someone that wasn’t me. My chest rises and falls rapidly. Is there any coming back from this? Can we still be just friends? How do we go back to being us? I don’t do relationships and even though we both agreed nothing would come from this, that was before I found out she was a virgin. Why would she do this to me?
I’d never been with a virgin before… damn it. The memories twist and turn inside my head as I shuffle through them. I cringe, wanting to stab myself in the eye after last night.
If I had known. If she had said something, I would’ve gone slower, would’ve been gentler. I tip my head back and chuckle into the empty space. Who am I kidding? I was slow and gentle enough last night. I didn’t fuck her like I fucked all the other women, mainly because she isn’t another woman to me, she’s my best friend, and if I’m being honest, the one and only woman I could see myself loving. Also, I went slower because I didn’t want to hurt her or scare her away. I couldn’t have predicted this, though.
I clench my fists, pressing them to my forehead. I want to be mad at her. Call her and yell at her for not telling me, but what would it matter? It wouldn’t change what’s already happened. It wouldn’t erase the events of last night. I’m already pissed that she walked out of here without waking me up. She left, doing the walk of shame. She probably walked out of here thinking I would tell her to leave in the morning. She should know me better than that, as if I would ask her to leave. Bullshit. I’m an asshole, but I would never be like this with her.
I would never send her packing. I don’t care if we agreed to one night, at the end of the day, she’s always going to be more to me than just a fuck.
Exhaling a breath, I get up from the bed and make quick work of the sheets, pulling them off the mattress before tossing them to the floor. I can’t imagine what the maid is going to think when she comes in here to clean.
The chiming of my cell phone meets my ears and I get up, fishing the thing from my dress slacks. As soon as I pull the sleek device out, I see my brother’s name flashing across the screen. Furrowing my brows, I stare at the thing. I wonder what the hell he could want?
Tapping the green answer key, I growl, “What?”
“Well, good morning to you too, fucker.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk toward my closet and find a pair of boxers, pulling them on with ease as I trap the cell between my shoulder and my ear. I grab a pair of jeans and t-shirt too before walking back into the bedroom.
Huffing, I ask, “What do you want, Asher?”
“Nothing, really. I just wanted to talk. Dad asked me to call and remind you about dinner at the house tomorrow.”
My eyes widen. “Oh shit,” I say, more to myself than Asher. “Thanks.”
“Of course, what are big brothers for?”
I can practically see the smile on his face.
“I don’t know, what are they for?” I reply snarkily.
“What happened between you and Bailey last night?”
The question catches me off guard, and there’s a long moment of silence that stretches between us. Does he know? Would she have called him and told him? I don’t think so. Bailey was always more my friend than she was his. While Asher saw her as an annoying little sister that refused to go away. I saw her as… well, the most important thing in my life. Even when I was nine years old, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in class, and that sunflower sundress she wore all the time...