Fire Whiskey for My Soul

Chapter Three

Brad woke at about three in the morning, momentarily disoriented by his surroundings before he remembered where he was. He had been a light sleeper since his time in prison, and some sound had woken him but he wasn't sure what.

It could be anything, he thought. I'm not used to the noises here and this is an old house.

Since he was awake, he may as well head to the bathroom. He had chosen to sleep only in his own boxer briefs as none of Steve's pajama clothes fit. He wasn't concerned. He anticipated heading home the next day and he had definitely worn worse for longer.

He walked as quietly as he could to the door and carefully eased it open a crack. It didn't squeak. He saw no lights and heard nothing except Steve's steady, quiet snoring.

He tiptoed across to the bathroom door and put his hand out to open it. Before he could grab the knob, it pulled away from him, and the object consuming his every thought slammed right into his chest before he could even blink.

"Oooooh! Shit!", she quietly squealed as she rebounded backward, losing her balance and heading down. He reacted- putting his arms around her and hugging her against himself to steady her.

"Sorry, sorry", he whispered. "I woke up, didn't see a light, and didn't know anyone was up".

"It's okay", she whispered back, "you just scared me half to death". Her hands were pressed against his bare chest, and she was looking up at him, but he could barely see her face in the dark. He still had his arms all the way around her and his heart was pounding underneath her hands.

"Did I hurt you?", he whispered.

"No, I'm fine", she answered.

He was now painfully aware that she was pressed against his bare chest. It was mortifying and exhilarating, but either way she needed to move.

He slowly released her and stepped aside so she could squeeze past.

"Night", she whispered.

"Night".

He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head at his reflection.

"Brad, you are in trouble like you've never been before", he told his reflection.

...........................................................................

My alarm was set for six but I woke up fifteen minutes before it went off. My first thought made my cheeks burn with embarrassment and I ground my head into the pillow. Gah!

Last night I ran smack into a nearly naked, incredibly attractive, appealingly solid man...and I scream, swear, and fall down. Classy. How classy. I could only hope he was half asleep when it happened. Though he didn't feel half asleep. He felt in control, confident. Like he could literally handle anything and probably has.

Why did he hold onto me for so long?, I wondered, feeling my cheeks blushing even though I was alone.  In different circumstances I wouldn't have moved. I had never felt such an immediate and intense connection with someone before. However, I had been cheated on, and regardless of where my relationship with Steve was headed, I would not be comfortable crossing that line, no matter how much I connected with someone else.

I kicked off the blankets and headed downstairs, piling my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head as I went. Now started my morning routine. I made coffee and breakfast, threw it in the warmer, and headed back up to get myself ready. Breakfast usually took me between twenty and thirty minutes to prepare, and getting myself ready typically took about forty. I could do it faster if I really tried, but my hair often took twenty minutes by itself, and I liked to look as polished as possible for work.