To his credit, he doesn't look embarrassed. "What finishing school did you attend, again?"
I take off my bra, and while he's staring, I flip him off with both hands.
Chapter Nine
When I wake up, it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am. There's the usual oh, I'm not at home realization, quickly followed by oh, I'm not in my own room, either. Which is, of course, immediately followed by:
Right, I slept with Adrian last night.
And he didn't kick me out, so, that's something.
There's no sign of him anywhere, though. All his stuff is here, so it's not like he fled in the night, but on my trip to the bathroom and back I don't spot any sign that he was here recently. Yawning, I climb back into bed and snuggle under the covers. There's still a while before morning sessions, and I don't care about most of them anyway. I slept like a baby after last night, somehow, but I'm still tired.
I have no idea how late we stayed up. I could already see the gears turning in his head, revving up for Round 2, as I stripped down for the shower. We "washed" each other, then made out for a while until I was practically humping his leg, at which point he took mercy on me with those very, very skilled fingers. As much as I appreciated them, I still wanted the chance he'd robbed me of earlier. And I finally got it, when he took me to bed.
So yeah, maybe that's why I'm still so sleepy. I could go back to my own room, but having left the connecting door locked, in my infinite wisdom, I've eliminated the possibility of doing so without getting dressed. And that sounds like a hassle and a half.
The sound of the door clicking open shakes me out of my dozing. I push myself up on my elbows, squinting at Adrian as he walks in.
"Morning," he says, smiling. I feel a little twinge of relief in my chest. "Any thoughts on breakfast?"
"Some." I'm flirting with him. I can't help it. His groin is basically at eye level as he approaches the bed, and it would take superhuman willpower not to think about the possibilities. "Why, what do you have in mind?"
He grins. "I'm trying to think of a way to make a 'hair of the dog' joke that's not going to come across badly. So far, no dice."
I keep expecting the room to go cold and quiet, the way it did in the pool. But he pauses by the bed, his fingers brushing my leg under the covers before he drops a shopping bag in my lap.
"What's this?" I frown at it, unfolding it slowly to reveal the contents. I have to spend a couple minutes blinking the sleep out of my eyes before I can process what I'm looking at.
Panties. Sensible ones. But not too sensible - little black boyshorts, cute but practical, and one hundred percent cotton so they'll actually stay where they belong. I look up at Adrian with genuine gratitude in my eyes, but something in his face deflects it before I can say what I want to say.
"These are too small," I tell him, instead.
He tilts his head slightly. "You can't possibly know that without trying them on."
Rolling my eyes, I clamber out of bed, trying not to notice how his whole body language changes while he drinks in the sight. I'm still wearing his discarded shirt, and I know, for whatever reason, that drives guys completely insane. It doesn't hurt that I might as well be naked. It's not even remotely big enough to be decent, so he's getting an eyeful, but there's just enough of the crisp white fabric to be a little bit of a tease. Something tells me we're not going to make the morning conference sessions.
I step into the boyshorts, shamelessly, and have to shimmy a little bit to get them up over my hips. But if I keep them riding low, technically, they fit.
Advantage Risinger.
He looks me up and down, licking his lips. It's pretty obvious he dressed in a hurry this morning, to sneak out and get me this little gift, so his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and his hair's falling out of place in a way that's practically inviting me to grab a handful and guide him home.
Advantage Burns.
"I win," he says, closing the tiny distance between us. He tilts his head to mine but he doesn't kiss me, not quite, and I'm grateful for that on account of my morning breath. But something tells me he's not going to care. "Now, Ms. Burns, I just watched your pupils go the size of dinner plates while you stared at me. You want to share what's going through your head, or do I have to run down my arsenal until you surrender?"
God damn this man. His lips are so close I can almost taste him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I murmur innocently. My heart's beating a million miles a minute, basking in the desire that positively radiates from his body. Most of yesterday's makeup ran off in the shower and my hair is tangled and I probably still smell like last night's sex, but he still can't keep his hands off of me. Well, evidently he can - which is a problem I intend to rectify.
"Oh, that's how she's going to play it." Like he's talking to himself, the way he always does when he thinks no one can hear him. "But, hmmm…where do I start? That's the question, isn't it?"
He steps back, just far enough to circle me, getting the full view.
"As much as I'd love to spend the rest of this conference in here with you, that might raise a few eyebrows. So, I think it's best to get off to an explosive start, so we can move on with our day. What do you think, Ms. Burns?"
Breathless, I nod.
"I'm so glad you agree." He smirks. "After the way you behaved last night, I think you're overdue for a proper tongue-lashing."
It takes me a second to even process what he's saying, and he's kissing me by then, withdrawing and nipping at my lower lip only when I make a muffled noise of protest.
"I, um…" I look up at him helplessly, wanting so badly to just sigh and surrender to this, but I can't. Not when my last boyfriend made me shower and scrub down and shave myself clean before he'd go near my ladyparts with his mouth. I didn't blame him, not one bit - I knew there were plenty of guys who refused to do it at all, so I always considered myself lucky.
I'm not exactly going full Wild Kingdom, but I'm only trimmed, and my last ex was the only guy I ever allowed down there. I don't really have a basis for comparison - some baseline of what guys generally consider acceptable for this particular activity.
Of course Adrian doesn't care. At least, he doesn't think he cares. He got a good look at me last night, he knows what he's dealing with. He knows I just rolled out of bed. But I can't just switch off the thrum of anxiety, the little voice in the back of my head telling me I'm not good enough.
"What?" He frowns at me, his arms still wrapped around my waist. "You're telling me you haven't fantasized about this? I've seen the way you look at me when I lick envelopes."