My head spun as I pushed myself upright and turned toward my bedmate, hoping I’d find Chantel fast asleep beside me.
Nope. My stomach lurched.
That was a man.
My sleeping partner had his back to me, but even through blurred vision, I could tell he was tall and built of pure, lean muscle. His dark hair was sleep-tousled, thick waves curling against the back of his neck. If I could’ve buried my face in those waves and slept for days, I probably would have.
But sleep was out of the question because the man beside me was Chantel’s cousin. The handsome guy I’d gotten loaded with and told all my pitiful secrets to.
God, I’d told him about Sean. Sure, I’d kept the details to myself, but I hated talking about Sean.
Sean, who I’d followed from Calgary to Montreal because he’d promised me the world, and I’d been desperate enough to believe him. Sean, who’d left me in a city where I didn’t know a soul, then waltzed back in three months later like nothing had happened. Sean, who I’d let back into my life because apparently one round of humiliation wasn’t enough.
Asshole Sean, who’d left again the morning after using me as his human fuck-doll.
Here I was, four days later, crashing at my best friend’s new house in Copper Ridge, trying to convince myself that starting over for the third time in as many years was a fresh start and not a pattern.
Cliché. That was the word thrown around last night.
It totally fit.
I was a walking, talking, living cliché, and it sucked to have to admit it. Talking about it was an uncomfortable exercise in self-deprecation.
But the way Caleb had looked at me felt different from the way men usually did. He wasn’t just seeing hair and tits. Okay, maybe he was seeing that too, but it felt like something more.
I felt understood.
His rib cage fell steadily with each breath, his calm so solid my headache started to dull.
Flashes of memory from last night filtered in, like a tap being turned from a trickle to a flood. Images of the two of us talking and laughing, his blue eyes sharp even in the dim light of the kitchen. The way he’d smiled at me like I was the most interesting person he’d ever met.
That smile had turned me to a puddle on the floor. It lit up his entire face and was somehow both wicked and genuine at the same time.
He was so real. So honest. So fucking hot.
And I’d kissed him.
Holy shit.
Yes, I’d done that. It wasn’t just a dream. I could still feel the heat of it on my lips.
Except everything beyond that searing moment was blank. I couldn’t remember any of it. Only how his mouth had moved against mine like he already knew exactly what I needed.
How did we end up in bed together? Did we have sex?
I was still wearing my shirt, bra, and underwear. My jeans were on the floor. And a pleasant ache pulsed between my thighs. But I couldn’t tell if it was from thinking about the hot man beside me and the kiss we’d shared, or from whatever happened after.
Shouldn’t I be able to tell?
My gaze moved over him again, inspecting him closely.
He was wearing the same clothes as last night. His shirt clung to his broad shoulders and brought memories of my arms being wrapped around him. Although, I couldn’t place that memory.
Was it before or after leaving the party? Were our clothes on or off?
Fuck, I had to get the hell out of here. Now.
Not only was Caleb my best friend’s cousin, but he was her younger cousin. Much younger.