She woke
up slowly—first recognizing that she was unusually warm and cozy, then
feeling
a big, solid body beside her, then realizing that the skin of her cheek
was
clinging hotly to someone else’s skin and finally hearing the slow
breathing of
the man beside her.
Greg. It
was Greg beside her. She’d slept with him all night and was still
snuggled up
against his side.
He was
still asleep.
His face
looked younger with his features relaxed from sleep and the shadow of
the dark
growth of the beginnings of a beard was more obvious than usual. He
needed to
shave. And his dark eyelashes looked oddly fragile against the skin
under his
eyes.
She was
just about to peek under the sheet to see if he had a morning hard-on
when he
opened his eyes and caught her.
“Good
morning,” she said, covering quickly by pretending she was tucking the
sheet
more securely around his chest.
“Hi.” He
gave her a perplexed smile. “What were you doing?”
“Nothing,”
she lied. Looking desperately for a distraction, she asked, “What time
is it
anyway?”
When she
saw the time, her focus shifted dramatically.
“Shit!”
She jumped out of bed, conscious that she was naked except for her
little satin
panties. Her body wasn’t bad—curvier than she would have preferred but
certainly nothing to sneer at. But she wasn’t used to parading around
without
any clothes on. Ignoring the flicker of self-consciousness, she said,
“I’m
late. I have to teach a class at eight o’clock.”
Greg
looked lazily over at the clock. “Wow. Is it already seven-forty? I
must have
slept like the dead.”
“Me too.”
Frantically trying to rehearse the time remaining,
“Sorry
about that. What class do you have to teach at eight?”
Greg
looked genuinely curious. “You mean they don’t know?”
She’d
found her blouse on the floor and was buttoning it as quickly as she
could.
“Most freshmen are clueless. They don’t even know how to find
books—much less
periodicals and academic journals and—” She broke off as she stepped
into her
straight skirt and zipped it up.
She still
had her stockings on, so she wouldn’t have to mess with those. She ran
over to
the mirror and gave a shocked squeak at what she saw. “Help! Why didn’t
you
tell me I looked so horrible?” Her mascara had smudged a little, one of
her
cheeks was bright red from being pressed up against Greg all night and
her hair
was a disaster.
“I thought
you looked pretty good.”
She
snorted, almost choking as she splashed water onto her face. “That’s
either an
outrageous lie or else a sign of some perverse impulse men have to see
their
women looking well-fucked and exhausted.”
She bit
her lip as she dried her face, glad she was out of sight of the bed.
She hadn’t
meant to say “their women” as if she were implying she was his
woman.
She
checked her face again, not having the time to spare to beat herself up
for
such a minor slip. One side of her face was still redder than the other
but
that would hopefully fade in a few minutes. Her face was scrubbed clean
but it
was better than before.
She
scrambled over to her purse, which she’d dropped on the floor in their
frantic stumble
toward the bed last night. As she grabbed a comb, Greg said, “Nothing
perverse
about it.”
“What?”
She glanced over at him distractedly as she tugged the comb through her
tangled
hair.
“Enjoying
the sight of my woman well-fucked,” he explained.
Her mouth
dropped open and she stared at him, almost diverted from her urgent
rush to get
dressed.
He looked
rather well-fucked himself—lazy and content, stretched out on the bed,
with
rumpled dark hair and that delicious five-o’clock-shadow.
“What?” he
asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. Clearly he didn’t place any
of the
significance that she had on the “his woman” thing.
“Nothing,”
she bit out, taking her long blonde hair and knotting it up in a sloppy
chignon. She took her wire-framed glasses out of the case in her purse
and put
them on. Then studied herself in the mirror as she pulled on the jacket
to her
suit. “How do I look?”
“Like a
librarian,” Greg said with a smile. “Like a librarian who has just been
tumbled
in the back room.”
She
scowled at him.
“And you
should probably put on your shoes,” he added.