Chapter 57

I woke alone in a cold and rumpled bed. Still naked, I sat up and looked around the luxurious bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through the massive windows, casting a pale glow on my posh surroundings.

I looked toward the bedroom's doorway, where the trail of discarded clothing brought back memories of the previous night.

Had I really done it?

Had I really slept with Zane "the Prick" Bennington?

A pleasant soreness, not only between my thighs, but also deep in my stomach, told me all I needed to know. Last night, I'd had so many orgasms, I'd literally lost count.

Did I regret it?

Yes.

And no.

Yes – because this wasn't me. I wasn't a jump-in-the-sack kind of girl. I was a relationship kind of girl. Until now, I'd successfully avoided guys like Zane – irredeemable man-whores with a list of lovers a mile long.

And yet, I also realized that regret cut both ways. If somehow, I'd found the willpower to walk away when I'd had the chance, I'd be dealing with regret of a different kind.

I had to face facts. I would've been screwed either way. But only one of those ways had given me a memory to last a lifetime.

There was no denying it. I'd wanted him.

I heard myself sigh. And now, I'd had him. What now?

Clutching the sheet close to my chest, I took another long look around, but saw no sign of him. I didn't hear him either. Was he gone? It sure seemed that way.

Was this my cue to leave, too?

I gave my discarded clothes a worried glance. There was no way I'd consider them clean now, especially my panties. Last night, I'd been so wet from wanting him that, for all I knew, they were still damp.

The thought was more than a little embarrassing.

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was only eight o'clock. The morning was still young, right? Maybe he'd just popped out for coffee? Like the sap I was, I waited in his bed until nearly nine-thirty.

Finally, when it became painfully obvious that he wasn't coming back, I did the only thing I could. I got up and started gathering my clothes.

Ten minutes later, I was fully dressed, minus the panties, which I'd wadded up and tucked into the front pocket of my shorts.

Silently, I crept toward the main door of his suite, feeling incredibly self-conscious, even though I was utterly alone.

Unfortunately, that dynamic changed within five seconds of my departure. His door had barely shut behind me when who did I see rounding the nearby corner?

Tiffany.

At the sight of me, she stopped dead in her tracks. I stopped in mine. I wasn't normally a blusher, and yet, I could feel my face burning with raw embarrassment.

Her lips formed a smirk. "So, what'd you think?"

"What'd I think of what?"

She eyed me up and down. "Oh, forget it. It's not like I want to hear it, anyway." She glanced toward the door that I'd just come out of. "I'm missing a pink hairbrush. Did you see it?"

I had, in fact. The brush had been sitting on a marble-top table near the main door. "Uh, yeah. I think so."

She frowned. "You didn't use it, did you?"

Feeling more self-conscious with every passing moment, I ran a nervous hand through the tangles of my hair. "No. I didn't use anything."

This was only a slight exaggeration. I had helped myself to a splash of mouthwash and a quick look in the mirror. Unfortunately, this meant that I knew exactly what Tiffany was seeing – a girl who'd just stumbled out of Zane's bed.

But that wasn't the only thing bothering me. It was the visual reminder that Tiffany had slept in that same suite just one night earlier.

This posed a rather disturbing question. In that same bedroom? Or in the other one? And what if it was in the same bedroom. Was it in the same bed, under the same sheets? If so, had they been changed?

Zane had already assured me that nothing had happened between them. And foolish or not, I actually believed him. Was I being stupid?

No.

Or yes.

Damn it. Either way, I was wilting under Tiffany's scornful gaze. She gave my appearance another quick once-over. "Yeah," she said. "I can tell."

It took me a moment to recall the threads of our conversation. Obviously, she meant that she could tell that I hadn't brushed my hair or gone to any other trouble to make myself presentable.

But in my own defense, I'd been betting on a quick anonymous escape.

No such luck.

With a mumbled excuse, I moved past her and rounded the corner, only to collide into who?

Teddy, Zane's cousin.

Just shoot me, now.

As I stumbled backward from the unexpected impact, he stood, staring like he'd just caught me molesting the neighbor's cat. With a sound of disgust, he said, "I see you ignored my advice."

I was almost too embarrassed to think. "Huh?"

He gave me a smirk. "Or, maybe you were screwing him all along."

What the hell?

From somewhere behind me, I heard Tiffany say, "No. I don't think so."

I turned to look. She was now standing within arm's reach, giving Teddy a knowing smile. "What I think," Tiffany told him, "is that she's wanted him all along, and he finally took pity on her."

I wanted to slap her. Determined to resist, I shoved my hands deep into the front pockets of my shorts. After all, there was no need to get violent – yet.

Tiffany said to Teddy, "Wanna know how they met?"

"How?" Teddy asked.

"She was like, a caterer's helper or something." She gave a little snicker. "You remember that party at Zane's place? Well, she was the one picking crab cakes off the carpet."

I spoke up. "Yeah? And you were the one humping him in the alcove."

Tiffany straightened. "So?"

"So your fiancé was at the same party."

"Ex-fiance," she corrected.

"Oh, please," I said. "Not at the time, he wasn't."

At this, she had the nerve to look insulted. "What are you saying? That I'm some sort of slut?"

"Oh, get real." I threw up my hands in frustration. "I'm just saying, you're in no position to talk."

In unison, Tiffany and Teddy turned to look at something near my right foot. I lowered my head to see what they were seeing, and felt my face burst into new flames of embarrassment.

Yup, those were my panties all right. With as much dignity as I could muster, I swooped them up and crammed them back into my pocket.

And then, what else could I do?

I turned and marched toward the stairway, trying to ignore Tiffany's laughter ringing out behind me.