A Love Like Ours

Chapter 16

Awareness came back to me with a vengeance. My head was pounding, and there was a painful brightness behind my eyes I couldn't understand until I opened them, and immediately had to squeeze them shut again. The sun was streaming in through the window, and my head pounded in response.

I groaned without meaning to, a hand reaching up to clutch at my temple in the desperate hopes to stop the throbbing. It did nothing. And there was no slipping back into sleep with this raging hangover tugging me into wretched wakefulness. So, eyes still squeezed shut, I shifted around, turned my body over beneath the sheets so that I could open my eyes without the sunlight glaring at me.

But before I could fully turn over, a soft sigh emitted from somewhere on the other side of the bed, and my eyes snapped open despite everything to take in the head of brown hair, and the beautiful sleeping face on the pillow next to mine.

My body froze and I held my breath as I waited to see if she would wake, as flashes of the night before flickered into focus, and regret filled every ounce of me that wasn't soaked in alcohol.

I was going to kill Niall. It had been his idea to go out, to blow off some steam after everything we'd talked about in my backyard last night. He even pulled the "it's my last night in L.A." card, and I'd fallen for it, gotten myself completely shit-faced, and ended up here.

He was dead to me.

I barely breathed as I assessed my situation. Luckily, she wasn't on top of me, but as I shifted around more, I realized that I wasn't wearing clothes, and from the looks of her—her bare shoulder was peeking out from beneath the blankets—she wasn't either. Carefully, still not taking a full breath, I lifted the sheets I was under, wincing as I shifted on the bed and the movement rippled her way. She didn't stir though, so I kept going, kept moving until I was standing naked, staring down at the mess of blankets and the beautiful woman I was leaving behind.

Snippets of memories filled my mind's eye. The heat, the rush, the moisture between bodies, the dizziness in my head and the thrill in knowing what was about to happen between us, of knowing that at any moment, I would plunge myself into someone and hopefully forget everything else. The drink only went so far in that respect. But sex—it closed the mind and brought all the senses to life. And last night, I'd wanted to forget everything and just feel.

She'd obliged me. She'd encouraged me. She'd taken me into her body, not once, not twice, holy shit, three times last night. And I'd enjoyed it. I'd wanted her, too. Briefly, but totally. Just as I had the first time I'd found myself in her bed.

But now... now I hated myself. Hated what I'd done, hated what it meant to me, and what it might mean to her. Hated myself even more than I had that first time. Because it wasn't supposed to happen again, but apparently, it had.

Head still pounding, stomach unsettled, I scrambled around for my clothes, the room only slightly familiar to me after our last encounter. It was small, creaky wood floors, and the windows were always wide open. No blinds, no curtains, no shade... nothing. And it occurred to me again to wonder how the fuck she lived like this.

That's when the floor creaked loudly beneath my feet.

"Hey you," a sultry voice said, and I startled before I could get my jeans zipped and buttoned.

I spun around to find Jenna looking at me, her eyes heavy with sleep and desire, her ample chest totally bare as she propped herself up on one elbow and stared at me.

"Leaving already?" she asked, smiling a little before biting her lip.

I refocused on my trousers, turned around because I was panting a little more than I wanted to be, and didn't answer.