Everyone and anything familiar belongs to Janet. The mistake are mine.
"Owww," I whispered, but even that was too loud for my poor hungover head.
I grabbed it with two hands to make it - or the room - stop spinning. The movement disturbed the warm body lying next to me.
"Sorry," I mumbled, right before I jackknifed into a sitting position.
Which wasn't a good idea for two reasons. One, because apparently I'm naked. And two, my head went from feeling like a disco ball - complete with strobe lights - right into full erupting volcano-mode. But my head's now the least of my worries. I don't recall giving anyone an 'all access' pass to what's now being covered only by a cheap sheet. Shit!
"No problem," was the amused response I heard rumbled next to me.
I went completely still. I didn't think there could be anything worse than waking up in my bed and realizing I'm not alone, but I was wrong. There is something much, much worse. That voice belongs to the guy I know intimately and have dreams about nightly.
"Ranger?!" I all but screamed, jerking the covers up under my arms so he couldn't get another peek at anything.
It doesn't matter that he's already seen plenty multiple times. I'm awake now and queasily sober. And apparently, I'm also the dumbest fucking person alive. Drinking too much could have trashed a pretty good friendship. He's been a fiercely-loyal friend and my protector for years. He's also the only person I've ever allowed to help me through a financial crisis or two. In return, I do jobs for him that probably aren't entirely legal. But every time we sleep together ... it screws things up and makes what's between us feel even more complicated.
Sex with him is amazing every single time, but it's possible last night could destroy what had been the best relationship I've ever had with a guy, because we've both kept ourselves from getting into one.
"Mornin', Babe," he said, running a hand through his barely messed up hair before resting his bare back above the pillow next to where mine was starting to shake.
Typical guy. He didn't feel the need to cover up like I did, so I had to pick and choose my words carefully while trying not to drool over all the muscles he was happily displaying. Jerk.
I glared at him. "Don't 'Mornin', Babe' me. Why are you naked? And what are you doing lying in my bed?"
Great ... now he's giving me a wolf grin. Hmm, interesting ... I never noticed that slight indentation in his cheek before. And sure, his morning voice has a sexy, gravely edge to it. Not to mention his impressive chest is enough to make me feel a little warm despite my minimal covering, but we can't go there. Scratch that, we can't go there again. Maybe our friendship can survive one more night of recklessness, but not two in a row.
"Currently, I'm keeping you company in this bed, but we have done a lot of other things in it. I can give you a refresher course on some of them if you'd like," he said, reaching for me.
I scooted away from him as much as my mattress would allow, and held up a hand to ward him off.
"Stay on your side of the bed," I warned him.
"Giving orders again? Good thing I like a bossy woman."
"Stop being an ass and answer the freakin' question already."
I'm trying really hard not to hyperventilate. I can't lose him over something as stupid as sex. He's been the one constant in my life since I'm not close to my family in the emotional sense. I still consider Mary Lou my best friend, but I find myself calling Ranger before her in most cases. He's a necessity in my life, and I can't let myself think of him not being in it anymore because of a few shots of iced cake-flavored vodka. I'm never drinking again, I swore to myself.
"Breathe, Babe," he said, morphing back into my protector instead of my tormentor.
"I'm trying, but this is bad," I told him.
"Why?"
I looked over my shoulder at him. "Why? Are you serious? Friends don't let friends sleep together."
"You should have that made into a bumper sticker."
"Can you please be serious for one friggin' minute?"
"No. I'm feeling pretty good right now and for once I don't want to be serious. If this is how you normally wake up after sleeping with a guy, I'm glad no one else got the pleasure."
"My reaction is about you specifically," I told him.
"Good. It's about time you see that I'm different."
"What are you talking about?"
He finally decided to drop the Ranger-humor. "Nothing happened between us last night, Steph. I stuck around because I thought there was a sixty-percent chance you'd admit you were ready to give us a shot. I half-convinced myself that the liquid courage you downed was what you needed in order to tell me that things were about to change. I know you're not good at discussing your feelings ..."
I snorted. "Like you are?"
He chose to ignore that. "I spent the night to give you more time to come to grips with your emotions regarding me."
"You made that decision before or after you helped me out of my clothes?"
He smiled. "You helped yourself out of them. You were feeling very friendly, but I managed to fend you off."
My glare didn't faze him.
"I didn't want to cement anything until you were lucid enough to enjoy it," he finished.
"You're a really good guy even if you did let me get completely drunk."
"You were a little looser, but you didn't appear drunk-drunk until I got you into my car. You only had three shots and you did have a little food before we left. I was watching what you consumed to make sure you didn't celebrate Connie's birthday more than she did."
"Why don't I remember anything?"
"I don't know, but I remember everything. I think you were afraid I'd leave at some point, because up until about a half-hour ago, you spent the night substituting my body for your mattress."
"Did not."
"Yes, you did. I was wide awake and hard with wanting you, so I can give you the exact number of times you climbed on top of me while asleep."
Shit.
He leaned forward to wrap an arm around me, and then he slid down on the bed so my stiff body would be lying against the length of his again.
"I didn't do anything except take my clothes off," he said to reassure me, "and slide into bed beside you after I got you tucked in."
"I was a tease again, wasn't I?"
"No. There was a mutual flirtation happening that started the moment you saw that I had shown up at the club to keep an eye on you," he informed me. "You stayed glued to my side the entire night. You weren't interested in anyone else there. And whenever a guy was feeling suicidal enough to approach you, you grabbed my hand, or leaned into my body, until he took your hint and my glare and disappeared. You also kissed me just as I was deciding whether to stay or go. The kiss involved a lot of tongue ... as a 'thank you' you said for bringing you home."
"Crap."
"I told you once that I'd move in if I felt your barriers relax, and they were extremely relaxed last night," he said to me. "Morelli's name didn't even come up. So ... is there something you'd like to tell me? That was one hell of a kiss to plant on someone you see as only a friend and occasional chauffeur."
"I am a pretty good kisser," I told him, letting myself finally calm down.
I didn't damage our friendship or anything else. Despite my drinking, flirting, and teasing, things are actually looking more promising for us.
"You are. The question is ... how long will I get to experience what an excellent kisser you are? Or are you going to continue to come up with excuses for why we won't be perfect together?"
"What happens if we don't work out?" I asked him instead of answering.
"We've sustained a solid friendship from almost the first day we met. Why do you automatically assume we can't make a relationship work for longer than that?"
"I'll screw everything up," I admitted.
He kissed the top of my head. It was such a familiar gesture of affection, my stomach did a little flip ... and not because of the residual booze it was still holding onto. Ranger just might out-potent vodka.
"I already know everything there is to know about you, Steph. I can read your face and your moods. I know what to avoid doing so I don't set you off. And I also know how to help you before and after a potentially life-threatening scare. I've already committed myself to you for life as a professional partner, but I'd like to take the personal side a step further than an occasional night when we both allow our defenses to come down."
"Why?" I asked, still wondering what makes him stick by me when even the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally don't even seem to like me most of the time.
"Because you're amusing, beautiful, annoying, and you can make me feel good about everything ... from myself to what I've had to do throughout my day. There are more reasons to love you. If you aren't too scared to give us a chance, I'll share the rest of them."
"You should give yourself the same break you're always giving me. I do feel the same way about you," I conceded. "Though I'm sure you'd rather be called 'hot' instead of 'beautiful' even if both apply."
He rolled me completely onto his body - which is way more awake than I am and obviously still hard - and made me look at him.
"How long?" He asked me again.
I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his mocha skin touching me everywhere again. This definitely isn't bad ... not bad at all.
"How long, Babe?" He pushed, when I took too long to speak.
"I guess you're stuck with me until you get sick of me," I said finally.
He gave me a smile that put even his hundred-watt grin to shame.
"Not to freak you out," he told me, "but you just agreed to forever and our someday, because I've already determined that I'm never going to get enough of you."
He slid a hand through my curls and brought my mouth to his. As I kissed him, I figure I'm agreeing to anything he asks me to give, because there's no way I'll ever get sick of - or enough of - him, either.