Page 47 of Love Marks

I hang up and slip the phone in my pocket, falling onto the couch. I close my eyes and try to ward off the fresh memories swirling through my mind: Wesley’s face staring up at me, pure and raw, and the feeling of his hand in mine.

Chapter 22

Wesley

Bright. It’s so bright.

I blink through the light with a groan, my head pounding. My eyes finally adjust to the light enough for me to recognize my own bedroom, the curtains wide open. Strange, since I usually close them before I go to bed.

God, I must have drank a lot last night.

I push the covers off and realize I’m still wearing yesterday’s slacks and button down, but my socks and shoes are off. That's weird.

I reach for the spot where my water bottle usually is and instead, I find a glass and my Advil pill bottle. That’s when it all hits me at once, memories from last night assaulting me head on.

Quinn. In my room. Putting me to bed.

If I said I was sorry, would you believe me?

Oh shit.

I toss a few of the Advil in my mouth and wash it down with the water. At least the worst part is over, right? When Quinn comes back to work, I can explain and apologize properly, like a man instead of a drunk, weepy asshole. That is if she returns to work tomorrow.

I remember with a pang that Pierre said he’d offer Quinn her old job back. It’s not like she can stay as my goddamn housekeeper now that the truth is out. What an asshole I am to even put her in this situation to begin with.

I go to the kitchen. I need coffee if I’m going to think through this. The espresso machine starts whirring and I hear the sound of…snoring? Turning to the couch, I see none other than Quinn curled up, her hands resting softly under her chin. I blink a few times, not believing it.

She slept here?

God, she looks beautiful. I want to reach out and find out if her skin is as soft as it looks. I flex my fingers out, suddenly nervous for when she wakes up. What the hell am I going to say?

I don’t have much time to figure it out. Suddenly, Quinn stirs, stretches her arms above her head, and blinks. I realize I probably look completely creepy hunched over her as she sleeps but it’s too late because she’s already looking into my eyes.

“Wesley?” Her voice is as soft as a caress.

“Good morning,” I reply, hoping I sound casual.

As if my words shock her fully awake, she sits upright and pushes her legs out, glancing around.

“Thank you for staying over. You didn’t need to do that. And you should have taken the second bedroom,” I say.

“Shit. I forgot about it, to be honest. I was a little distracted,” she says and then snaps her mouth shut, her face coloring red. She’s blushing, I realize with a jolt. The soft pink hue on her cheeks is making me inexplicably turned-on.

“Are you feeling better?” She asks, distracting me again.

I grin a little, half-grimacing at my behavior. “Yeah. Thanks for the Advil, and for taking care of me. You really didn’t need to stay.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she says, her eyes twinkling as she blinks up at me.

I want to kiss her.

The thought is so strong, I have to thrust it out of my mind immediately. I look away and clear my throat, my heart racing.

“Listen, about last night.” I force the words out quickly. “I was wrong. I didn’t explain it or apologize properly, but I’d like to try.”

“What do you mean?”

“Has Pierre called you yet?” I ask.