“What is this?”
“Just listen.” He grins.
And it’s good. By the chorus, we’re both moving. The tequila is in my bloodstream, the music is loud, and we’re dancing in my living room like idiots. He spins me, and I crash into his chest, laughing.
“You can dance, twinkle toes,” I say, surprised.
“It’s on my player profile.” He scoffs.
“I thought you were lying.”
“Ask Nelly, he’s been trying to learn my moves for years,” he jokes.
We dance and drink, and he shows me some ridiculous move that he swears he did at a team Christmas party last year. I nearly fall over trying to copy it, but he catches me. We’re both laughing so hard we can barely stand, and for a while, it’s just music, tequila, and two people having fun without thinking about anything else. The playlist changes to something slower,and we both stop.Aware of each other.Aware that his hand is still on my waist from catching me.
“Next song,” I say, moving away from him.
“Next song,” he agrees, and changes it immediately to something loud and stupid, and we’re back to being idiots. Which is safer. Much safer.
I wakeup and something feels wrong. I still.There is an arm across my waist that does not belong to me.Wait.There is a warm, large body behind me radiating heat like a furnace.Who the hell is in my bed?Their face is pressed into the back of my neck.
I open my eyes, which is hard to do, and see that I’m in my bedroom. I look down and see I’m wearing my thin sleep top, no bra, and shorts. The arm around my waist is attached to a very large, very shirtless man who is spooning me like we’ve been doing this for years.
It’s Fish.
Shit. Fish is in my bed.
I quickly look down and lift the blanket to see if he is naked underneath. It appears he has sweats on, but he is shirtless.
“You trying to catch a glimpse of Big Fish?” He chuckles as he pulls me closer. His fingers graze my stomach where my top has ridden up, and my entire body lights up.
“Fish.” I shove him.
“What ...” He bolts upright, looks around, looks at me, looks at himself shirtless, looks at me again.
“Nothing happened?” I say it more as a question than a statement, pulling the covers over my chest because my thin top is hiding nothing, and he’s already noticed.
He shakes his head. “You’d remember if I’d fucked you.”
Now is not the time for cockiness, and I grab my phone from the bedside table. “It’s six thirty.” Shit. “Fish, it’s Monday, travel day, the plane leaves at ten.”
The reality lands on both of us at the same time.
“Fuck,” he says.
“Fuck.” I agree. He launches out of bed, gets tangled in the sheets, and nearly face plants. I watch him rush around shirtless, those muscles contracting with each movement.
“Are you checking me out?” he asks, pulling me from my perve session.
“Um, no …” I instantly feel my cheeks turn red.
“I think you were.” He chuckles as he runs his hand down his shirtless body.
Shit.
“My eyes are up here, Lettie,” he says, pointing to his face.
The only thing I can do is flip him off.