Abby was quite... versatile. That was the last memory he could recall as a feminine voice started swearing and pulling from the bed. There was a husky quality from sleep but the pitch didn't quite sound like the perky brunette. Eric felt the covers completely pull from over him and he groaned accordingly. Abby didn't quite sound like herself. He thought they had a better time than her groaning while attempting escape.
Eric rubbed his eyes before finally opening them. Heh-low. The woman was a brunette but she sure as hell wasn't Abby. There was a reduced number of tattoos for starters. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to understand who he had shared--his bed? He didn't have a clue how the tryst above the bar ended up with another woman in his room. Little did he know that an entire day had passed since that event
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The way he didn't come immediately awake annoyed her, even as she knew how irrational that was. The irritation that bloomed at his response, though? That was earned
( ... )
Her vehement denial prompted Eric to curl up, keeping the pillow over his crotch then folding his arms over it and additionally shielding some of his torso. His eyes finally focused sharply although he still felt stuck in quite a haze. He couldn't remember what had actually transpired and neither did the brunette. However, she was much more upset over the situation than he was
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His reaction to her threat, or rather, the assumed reason for it seemed genuine. Sure, she wasn't feeling very much like her self at the moment, but she was still trained to watch for all the telling ticks of body language. So either he was a very, very good liar--definitely possible--or he was telling the truth.
In the end, it was the way he had covered himself up that sold her. It was a self-conscious act, a defensive act, but not in the flighty way that a man caught red-handed would have affected. And if he had roofied her, why stick around to face the reaper
( ... )
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Eric rubbed his eyes before finally opening them. Heh-low. The woman was a brunette but she sure as hell wasn't Abby. There was a reduced number of tattoos for starters. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to understand who he had shared--his bed? He didn't have a clue how the tryst above the bar ended up with another woman in his room. Little did he know that an entire day had passed since that event ( ... )
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In the end, it was the way he had covered himself up that sold her. It was a self-conscious act, a defensive act, but not in the flighty way that a man caught red-handed would have affected. And if he had roofied her, why stick around to face the reaper ( ... )
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