Trying not to wake him, I slowly slid out from under his arm and off the bed to search for my clothes. Once I was dressed, I told myself to just leave, but I couldn’t help it—I turned to look at him in the light. I needed to be sure I hadn’t made him up.
The images from last night tore through my mind again when I saw the large, tattooed arm resting where my body had just been. The muscles were well defined even relaxed, and the face had a boyish charm now that he was asleep. Such a difference from the predatory stare and knowing smirk I kept seeing in my mind. Before I could stop myself, I gently ran my fingers through his dirty-blond hair that, now in the sunlight, I could see had a red tint to it. And I knew if he opened them, those arctic blue eyes would once again captivate me.
But I couldn’t risk that.
I’d already stayed too long; I’d already made a mistake with him. Drunken one-night stands weren’t my thing. Drunken one-night stands with strangers in Vegas were even worse.
Straightening, I turned and walked quietly from the room.
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