Page 1 of One Drink

Chapter 1

Jake

Until waking up nakedwith my arms wrapped around my boss, I hadn’t lived.

Then again, maybe I’d imagined the whole thing, and this was all just a dream.

A ball of soft, warm flesh filled my hand, further stirring me from a dead sleep. I gave it a gentle squeeze, inciting a muffled moan from the sweet-smelling body curled up next to me. I’d lived alone for almost a decade, and the only breathing mammal to ever share my bed with me was my dog, Belle. My dog didn’t feel like this, and she certainly didn’t smell this good.

Not fully awake, nor wanting to release the tender, plump, squishy boob in my hand, I snuggled closer to the body next to me.

My eyes shot open and my head spun from the dull, pounding ache in my temples. Oh, shit. Definitely not a dream.

The realization would have been almost comical if I didn’t love her.

The bright light filtering through the cracks in the curtains forced my eyes closed. Fuck, that hurt. I vaguely recalled a night of celebration, happy employees, and several shots of hard liquor.

I squeezed my eyes tight, wrinkling my nose, and tried to remember what happened after the party ended. I was headed home when Stephanie asked me to join her for another round. We’d both already had too much to drink, but there’d been a thirst in her eyes I hadn’t seen before, so you better believe I stayed.

I opened my eyes again, but the bright morning light was too much for my headache, and I snapped them shut. They weren’t open long enough to focus on much, but I knew for certain I wasn’t in my apartment. This wasn’t my bed, or my pillows, and the person lying next to me was not my girlfriend. Because I didn’t have a girlfriend. I had a boss and a best friend—Stephanie.

But I would never have a one-night stand with Stephanie. Our friendship was too important to me to risk losing over a one-night stand. It didn’t matter that I secretly loved her. Lord knows I’d never tell her how I really felt. Or that I’d fantasized about similar moments oh-so-many times over the years—playing with the soft, long waves of her dark hair, kissing her ear and neck, and getting up and making her breakfast and coffee to surprise her in bed.

But that was just it. I wouldn’t be here—with my naked body pressed against her—unless she asked me here. And she wouldn’t ask me here unless she wanted more than a one-night stand. She knew I didn’t fuck around. Yet, last night I fucked Stephanie, more than once.

And it was amazing.

Despite my pounding headache, I pried my eyes open again. After several blinks and countless grimaces, the pain in my eyes faded enough to focus. The morning light was bright, revealing the cheerful, feminine decor of the room. Soft lavender walls with pale yellow curtains, and a pale yellow comforter with tiny pink and lavender flowers. Several tasteful photos of Stephanie sparsely dressed with her body sprawled across a chaise lounge and her head tipping over the edge hung on the walls. They were a beautiful and sexy display of art.

My lungs forgot how to take in air, and suddenly my headache wasn’t the most prominent pain in my body. In the picture closest to me, Stephanie was on her back and her dark, wavy hair hung to the floor. Most of her body was hidden by the angle of the camera with the focus on her face. Her plump lips, slightly parted, begged to be kissed. A hint of her perfectly shaped breasts were hugged together by the pale pink lace of her bra and the rest of her curves faded into the background.

Damn, she was gorgeous. Our mutual friend, Kate Porter—advertising executive by day and a freelance boudoir photographer by night—must have taken those photos. We did a feature on her a few months ago. One of our best issues to date. The photos of Stephanie looked like her work.

I had to think about something else before my hardening cock embarrassed me and woke Stephanie. Shifting my eyes to the warm body next to me, the sun beaming through the crack in the curtain reflected off the same deep highlights as those in the pictures on the wall.

Shit. That made my growing problem worse.

I closed my eyes and tried to recall what happened last night to lead me to her bed. It all came flooding back to me—leaving the private room after the party ended, hiding in the small booth in the dark shadows of the bar, the bottle of champagne, and the relentless flirting. Oh, my God, there had been so much flirting from both us.

And then there was the kiss that had been so much better than I had imagined.

I think I’d dreamed about that kiss since the first day I met her in our journalism class over ten years ago. At the time, we were both dating someone else, but we hit it off and became fast friends. Shortly thereafter, I’d broken up with the girl I was dating, and my feelings for Stephanie grew into something much more than friendship.

For ten years, I’d waited for the right moment to tell her how I felt. But her view of men as lovers and life partners was skewed, and the right time never came. Her father had very different expectations for her life. He didn’t support her career aspirations. Instead, he expected her to quit her job, get married, and take care of a husband. The constant berating from her father and lack of emotional and financial support from her family had caused Stephanie to distance herself from dating men. She never seemed ready to take any relationship to the next level, not even with me.

Stephanie worked hard and deserved every bit of her success. She always gave praise to her team and celebrated even the smallest accomplishment. She was a great leader, and the staff loved her. But last night had been the first time I’d seen her cut loose and have fun in a long time. Her career was important to her but she rarely made time for herself or took credit for her personal success. She truly enjoyed herself, drinking all those shots with her team—the team we were there celebrating—and I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off her.

It wasn’t until we were alone that I dared to make a move. Claiming her plump, full lips for the first time had terrified me. What if I read all her signals wrong? What if I interpreted her actions and words as flirting, but she only meant it as causal talk between old friends? But I risked it and kissed her. My insides lit up with burning flames when she kissed me back.

I glanced back at her face. Her lips were turned up in a faint smile. I imagined what it would be like—laying with her like this for years. I wanted this more than anything, but did she?

In a moment of panic and self-doubt, I released her breast from my hand and jerked back. A soft gasp escaped her lips. I had just managed to kill my morning hard-on, but the heady sounds coming from her were enough to liven that guy up again. Before I could shift away, my hardened cock poked her in the back.

“What the fuck?” Stephanie shot up in bed and whipped her head around to face me. She didn’t look confused, or shocked, or horrified to find us in bed together. She looked pissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Stephanie—”

She pulled the blankets with her as she jumped out of the bed, leaving me completely exposed. “Oh, my God, Jake. Cover up.”