Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(40)

Suppressing the urge to touch him, I untangled my legs from his and eased from the bed, quickly scanning the floor and finding my top and bra in a ball several feet away.

As I dressed, I watched him, certain he would wake and level those smoky eyes on me at any moment. My heart beat a wild rhythm in my chest as I slipped on my last boot, bouncing lightly on my other foot.

Standing, I carefully retrieved my phone from the bed and backed away, pausing at the top of the stairs. My gaze swept along every decadent inch of him nestled in the sheets like he was the subject of some kind of sexy cologne ad. I sucked a breath into my too-tight chest.

With one hand braced on the wall for support, intense relief that he hadn’t woken rushed through me. But that wasn’t all I felt. Unease skittered through me, settling in the pit of my stomach like bubbling acid. It somehow felt wrong slipping away like this. Without a word. Like a thief in the night. A betrayal. Which was silly. One-night flings happened all the time. No strings. No commitments. And it wasn’t like we had sex. We didn’t need to stare at each other and suffer an uncomfortable conversation full of lies and promises to call. This wasn’t about that. He knew why I followed him up here last night. Why I dropped my guard and let myself do all those unbelievable things with him. We both knew. I wasn’t that girl he had to worry about sticking around and making a nuisance of herself, infatuated and desperately convinced he was the love of her life.

Still, I hovered, arguing with myself, convincing myself it was okay to leave. I couldn’t imagine waking in the bright light of morning with last night between us. What would I say? I got what I came for. And he . . . I frowned, suddenly unsure what he had gotten out of the whole experience. I hadn’t slept with him. He hadn’t even . . .

My cheeks flamed hot, which only pointed at how inexperienced and awkward I still was. I couldn’t even complete the thought. I shouldn’t blush at my own thoughts, and yet here I was, face burning simply thinking about how he got me off and then I hadn’t returned the favor.

I tore my gaze away from him and quietly moved down the stairs, shooting Em a text to come and pick me up. I needed to get home anyway. I had work today. And I needed to study.

I winced. Was I actually feeding myself excuses? As if I didn’t know the truth?

As if I wasn’t running scared.

The instant I climbed into Em’s car, the inquisition began and continued all the way back to the dorm. Apparently I would get no respite. Not that I expected I could keep any of last night to myself.

Emerson fell onto my bed when we entered the room. She hadn’t bothered changing from her pajama bottoms and pink tank. She kicked off her slippers and curled her feet under her. Her short hair fell soft and smooth around her pixie face, free of product. She must have showered after Mulvaney’s last night. Her face was squeaky clean. Not a spot of makeup. She looked adorable and closer to fifteen than twenty.

She shook her head at me and there was a touch of awe in the motion. “I never thought I’d see you come through that door at seven A.M. after a hookup. I mean I’ve done plenty of walks of shame, but you? Nuh-uh.”

I waved a hand. “Please.”

She lifted her face and shouted into the next room, “Georgia! She’s back!” Her eyes beamed brightly with approval. “I feel like we need to go out for pancakes or something to celebrate.”

“It’s not my birthday, Emerson.”

“Uh.” One of her dark eyebrows arched. “It kinda is.”

Georgia shuffled in, looking like she had been awake for a while. She was always an early riser. She eyed me up and down as if looking for signs of injury. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” I nodded.

“Told you she was okay,” Emerson said. Her gaze swung to me. “She was worried. That text . . . he sent it, right?”

I nodded again.

She grinned. “God. That was so hot.”

I smiled weakly, dropping down in my chair. Georgia lowered herself onto the bed, shoving Emerson over.

“Well. Dish,” Emerson demanded. “How was it? How was he?”

“It was . . .” My voice faded, suddenly uncomfortable with sharing, and that left me a little confused. It was just a hookup. It wasn’t supposed to be anything special. Okay, I had covered bases one, two, and three in my otherwise base-free existence. That was special. True. But Reece . . . us . . . well, there was no us.

My friends watched me, waiting expectantly.

“It was nice,” I finished. “He was . . . he was nice.”

Emerson flinched. “Nice?”

“Hmm.” I nodded again.

“That bad?” She tsked. “Sorry.”

I blinked. “What? No. No. He was fantastic. He . . .” I floundered again.

Georgia studied me carefully.

Emerson tossed a small accent pillow at me. “Nice is code for sucks. Now tell us already!”

“Em, she doesn’t want to.”

Emerson looked at Georgia with a baffled expression. “Oh, come on. This was her first hookup. And he’s smokin’.” Her gaze swung back to me. “You can’t hold out on us.” Her eyes grew wide. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Ohhh. Did you and he?” Her fingers did some funny little dance that ended with them interlocked.

“No!” I tossed the pillow back at her.