Page 19 of See You Maybe
Olivia hummed what she hoped sounded like agreement, then the words swirling in her brain slipped out. “You have the most beautiful eyes.”
“Thanks. I used to hate them. My brothers used to tease that the color made me look like a cartoon character. Which is so dumb because one of them has the same—” The doors dinged open. “Is this your floor?”
“Car-bear,” Olivia said, instantly wanting to kick herself when the young woman’s eyes grew huge in her face.
“How did you?—”
Olivia practically leapt off the elevator as the doors slid shut behind her. Rushing to her room, she fumbled with her key, splashing tea on her hand. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned her head against it and tried not to cry.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dublin—12 Years Ago
Olivia’s mouth was a desert. She glanced around the room, feeling disoriented.
How did I get back here?
This is my room, right?
Panic climbed in her throat before she let out a slow exhale of relief.
Okay, same boring landscape on the hotel bedroom wall, and there’s my suitcase spilled over the floor. My outfit from last night neatly folded on the chair…
She had a vague recollection of wrestling with the shirt in the bathroom and tripping… Her hand skimmed down her body to the sore spot on her hip.
She was hurrying because…
Olivia’s eyes darted to the side, triggering a stabbing pain in her temples. Inches from her face, a honey-colored bicep rested across a chiseled jaw darkened by stubble.
Holy Shit, there is a man in my bed.
Her eyes bulged as memories flooded back. The hot-as-hell bouncer had walked her home from the bar. And then she’d taken off all her clothes.
Oh god! She silently groaned, her cheeks flaming. What happened next? Olivia tried to concentrate, but her head pounded painfully.
A shift of the sheets next to her brought the scent of bergamot and something deliciously male, before a large, warm hand moved under the covers and spread across her stomach. For the tiniest second, she forgot her hellacious hangover. The warmth of the hand had traveled, waking up other parts of her body.
Damn, he smelled good.
Olivia maneuvered to the side, hoping to get out of the bed without waking her unknown bedmate.
Please tell me I at least asked him his name.
Just as her left foot touched the ground, and she attempted to calculate the physics of torso movement versus blanket friction and the likelihood of waking him up, the warm hand cupping her waist tugged her back up against a firm chest. Pressing her tight against an exponentially warmer body who, by the hard length pressing against her ass, was now very much awake.
Her hormones lit like the Fourth of July, but resisting temptation Olivia cleared her throat and moved purposefully away to sit on the side of the bed, the arm that held her dropping away with a sleepy objection.
Summoning her courage, Olivia glanced over her shoulder and was hit with the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Were those real? Olivia tried not to gape, but… seriously? Men shouldn’t be allowed to have lashes like that.
“Morning, lass.” The deep voice, raspy with sleep, was a straight shot to the ovaries. She was hungover, not dead.
Did I have sex with him? Or worse. Did I have sex with him and not remember?
Inscrutable eyes watched her silently, and another memory popped into her mind. Her hand crept up and found the lump on the edge of her hairline.
He’d taken on the two guys trying to carry her out of the bar. Olivia vaguely remembered falling and going to the bathroom to get away… What happened next?
Should I ask him what happened? This is going to be humiliating.