Written in 17 minutes.
Her least favorite time of the day was morning.
Specifically, it was the blurry moments that existed in the space between sleep and waking. When she was toasty and warm, the bed a soft pillow of cotton—
It was a moment before Elizabeth Webber realized something as wrong. Very, very wrong.
She was not toasty and warm, tucked into her comfy bed.
The mattress was a flat as a rock, the pillow might as well have not existed—and was that an arm over her waist?
Oh, what fresh hell was this?
She cracked her eyes a sliver and huffed—she was lying on her side away from the mysterious holder of the arm, but she could confirm she was in a crappy motel.
She slid slowly towards the edge of the mattress. If she could just get out of bed, she could find her things, ignore this ever happened, and go back to her boring life without ever looking at who over belonged to that arm.
But life was not on her side as Elizabeth set one foot on the floor and immediately tripped over a heavy shoe of some kind as she tried to extricate the other leg.
“Fucking hell,” she muttered as she flew forward, her arms flailing and her elbow catching the side of the nightstand.
Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no.
“Oh, what did you do, girl?” she murmured to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t his voice. This wasn’t happening.
She was a good girl. With a safe life. Who lived a beige, bland existence.
She was a good girl.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, because maybe it was someone else with that voice who knew her, a girl could dream—but nope. Nope, that was Jason Morgan.
“Oh. God. Why me?” Elizabeth muttered, putting her head in her hands. “Was a I war criminal in the last life? What did I do—”
She heard sheets rustle as he spoke again, amused. “Hey. It’s not that bad—”
“Not that bad?” Elizabeth struggled to her feet—realized she was stark naked and reached for a corner of the sheet to drag across her—which only left him a corner of the same sheet.
She looked at him for a long moment, taking in that golden smoothness—could a man look so chiseled? Was it even allowed—focus, damn it. This was what happened when you let Lizzie take charge.
Because now it was all coming back to her. Going to Jake’s. Taking tequila shots. Taking a lot of tequila shots. Seeing Jason in a booth, looking alone, sipping a solo beer.
She had taken some tequila to him, feeling sorry for him. And…then…she’d clearly…done something to have this happen.
“Um, things are a bit foggy,” Elizabeth managed. “I don’t—”
“I don’t either,” Jason confessed with a sheepish half smile. “I mostly just remember the tequila.” The amusement slid from his face. “Did I do anything—I don’t—”
“Oh.” Elizabeth shoved her hair out of her face, blinking at him. “Oh, no. Listen.” He seemed genuinely worried he’d taken advantage of her, but it was way more likely to be the other way around. She had….a thing about tequila. Her inhibitions seemed to evaporate and she was almost sure she had…suggested something illegal in a few states.
But how did you tell a guy you’d lusted after him for the better part of a decade and save face?
“Um.” Elizabeth tried to straighten. “I should…I’m gonna get dressed, I think.”
“Okay,” Jason said slowly. “If you—” The smile came back with a hint of wickedness that she had never seen before. The man was sex on a stick, and now she’d never remember it.
Fate was a cruel, cruel bitch.
“I’ll just close my eyes.” She did so, squeezing so hard she was sure she’d have a headache.
She felt him slide off the bed past her, and then some rustling as he gathered his clothing. “I’m going in the bathroom—let me—let me know when you’re done.”
When the door clicked, Elizabeth dressed in lightning speed, shoving her legs into her jeans, tugging the black tank top over her head, and locating her sandals and purse.
And then did the sensible, sane, mature thing.
She fled the room.
Because she’d just slept with her ex-boyfriend’s twin brother after said brother had just eloped with Jason’s fiance, and she was pretty sure you went to hell for things like that.