Read Online Velvet by Temple West - Free Book Online

edge of the bed, walking to his desk, and …
     … taking off his clothes?
    I watched, absolutely fascinated, as he tossed the pirate shirt onto the back of his chair and pulled on a black sweater that clung to his body like Saran Wrap. He swiped a hand through his hair and scanned the floor, looking for something.
    Maybe I was still dreaming.
    I wanted to ask what time it was, why I was here, why I needed to go back to Trish’s, why, why, why, what, where, when, how? but my tongue was all sloppy and I couldn’t form any coherent thoughts.
    He looked for something in a drawer, found whatever it was, and took off his pirate pants.
    Ohmygodhetookoffhispiratepants.
    He was dressed in nothing but a sweater and tight, black boxer briefs. Even in the dim moonlight, I could see that Adrian wasn’t just in shape; he was built . Decathlete built. FIFA World Cup soccer champion built. Not bulky, really, but solid. Just muscles for days, lean and beautifully arranged. I was staring, and I didn’t care.
    I must be dreaming. Not only had I been mostly naked in Adrian de la Mara’s room, Adrian had been mostly naked in Adrian’s room. I mean, that made sense, since it was his room, but I was there, and what the hell was happening?
    “I don’t have any boots your size,” he said, turning to face me once more, “but I stole these from my aunt. They’re probably a couple sizes too big, but it’s all I have.”
    He held up a pair of sandals, but I wasn’t really looking at them, not when the image of his mostly naked body was burned into my retinas like a film negative.
    “You’re not really awake yet, are you?” he asked.
    I blinked at him.
    He stared at me and said, “Hmm,” in a low, rumbly sort of way.
    I blinked again, pinching my eyes shut and then opening them wide. The room came in to a bit clearer focus. Slowly, I sat up; the wide neck of his sweater slipping off my shoulder again.
    “Adrian,” I said, overpronouncing his name.
    “Yes?”
    “Your house.”
    “Yes.”
    “Your room.”
    “Yes.”
    I looked down at myself. I was practically swimming in the clothes I wore.
    “Your pajamas?”
    He smiled. “Yes.”
    “Time?”
    “Four thirty.”
    “A.M.?”
    “Yes.”
    I touched a hand to my head. “Jungle Juice?”
    Adrian tried to suppress another smile. “Yes.”
    “Ah,” I said, as if that one word summed up everything that had happened over the past five hours. A moment passed as we stared at each other. “I don’t really know what to say right now.”
    “How about I go grab you something to eat while you think about it?”
    “Okay,” I agreed.
    He left and I was grateful I had a moment to pull myself together.
    How stupid did I feel? You got drunk , I told myself. You got drunk and Adrian had to drag you all the way to his house so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself. And then you cuddled with him.
    I scrambled out of bed, which was a bad idea because dizziness and gravity conspired against me, so I lay still until the world stopped spinning. I’d just managed to sit up again when Adrian opened the door.
    “I’m not sure what your stomach can handle, so I made you a slice of cinnamon bread. Does that sound okay?”
    He’d taken me home and put me to bed and made me toast. Thank God it was dark, I felt like I was blushing red and pasty white all at the same time. He handed me the plate and I took a bite. It was good. Lots of butter.
    We stared at each other while I ate. When I was finished, he set my plate down on his desk and picked up a coat, slinging it over my shoulders and messing with the collar until it lay right.
    “There,” he said. “Why don’t you call Trish and tell her we’re coming?”
    I nodded and looked around. “Uh—do you happen to know where my stuff is?”
    I remembered taking off my clothes. I remembered putting on Adrian’s pajamas. I did not remember what happened in-between.
    “I think everything’s on the floor over there.” He pointed near the set of