Lines of Defense

Ch. 20

AMELIA HART

I wake with a groan, squeezing my eyes shut. My head throbs, a merciless reminder of last night's questionable choices. I'm in my bed, somehow, but everything else is a blur. As I turn over, the sheets cool against my cheek, and it hits me that I don't actually remember getting home. Panic begins to claw its way through the fog.

Trying to piece it together, I retrace my steps. I went to Ethan's house, intending to return his key. Right. I'd given him the key, and then... I'd gone inside, had a drink. Or three. And then... oh, no. My stomach drops as fragmented memories resurface with brutal clarity. I can still feel the warmth of his skin under my fingertips, his stunned expression as I ran my hand down his chest, the way his breathing hitched as I trailed down, down—

"Oh, God!" The realization crashes into me. I slapped my hand against my forehead, groaning out loud. "I touched him. Everywhere. I was—" I squeeze my eyes shut as if that could erase the memory. "I had his—oh my fuck." I'd actually held it, had it in my hand, bold as brass, like I was some kind of drunken siren. The image of his face, those widened eyes, pops back into my head, and I let out a strangled scream, clutching my pillow in humiliation. What had possessed me?

The door swings open, and Jane stands there with a glass of water and two aspirin. Her eyebrows shoot up at the sight of me, face buried in my pillow and shoulders slumped.

"Morning, sunshine," she says, far too cheerfully. I drag myself upright, clutching my head as she hands over the water and aspirin.

"Jane," I croak, heat crawling up my neck. "How... how did I get here?"

She smirks, crossing her arms as if she's been waiting to tell me. "Oh, Ethan brought you home. Had you in his arms like some kind of swooning bride, too." Her eyes gleam with amusement. "You should've seen his face, trying to navigate your door while carrying you."

I sink deeper into the pillow, groaning as the embarrassment drowns me. "No, no, no."

"Oh, yes," Jane continues, savoring each word like it's the juiciest piece of gossip she's ever delivered. "And if I'd known you'd go that far, I would've told you to ask him to strip down entirely, not just take off a few layers." She grins, winking. "Did you manage to see him... you know?"

I freeze, the memory a blur. "Well... we kissed," I mumble, cheeks on fire. "And then..." I clasp my hand to my chest as I recall the details. "He touched me, Jane. Right... here." I press my palm over my nipple, still able to feel the faint press of his fingers, the way my body had responded.

Jane's eyes widen, and she lets out an impressed whistle. "Finally. And? Did you...?"

I hesitate, glancing around like someone might overhear. "I felt it," I whisper with mortification.

Jane practically squeals, clapping her hands like a giddy schoolgirl. "Oh my God! Details!" she demands, perching on the edge of the bed. "Was it... like you imagined?"

I bury my face in my hands, laughing and groaning all at once. "I didn't see it, but..." I shiver, reliving the sensation. "Jane, he's packing. I swear, it was..." I struggle to find the words, cheeks flaming. "Massive," I finally manage.

Jane lets out a delighted giggle, her eyes dancing with wicked delight. "Better this way," she says, nodding sagely. "A body for a body. He sees you, you feel him." She leans back, grinning. "You're practically even."

I throw a pillow at her, but she dodges, laughing.

I stare at Jane, horror curling up in my chest like a tightly wound spring. "How am I supposed to face him now?" The question tumbles out, thick with panic. "I can't just walk into the office like nothing happened."